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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725525">Today, Tonight and Forever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyresnuger/pseuds/Nyresnuger'>Nyresnuger</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(vaguely its mainly magic but Jack and Ana has a flowershop), Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/F, Found Family, I am in love with Gabriel Reyes and it really shows, M/M, Magic AU, Magical Creatures, Modern AU, Monsterhunter AU, Multi, Past Character Death, Rating subject to change, Slice of Life, a big old dog, flowershop au, mythology AU, slowburn, the slowest of slowburns probably</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:55:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>43,742</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725525</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyresnuger/pseuds/Nyresnuger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse McCree, tired monster hunter by trade, is beginning to think he has this down by now. Ana or Jack calls him, preferably at the least convenient time possible, and he goes to banish some ghosts with Fareeha.</p><p>It's practically pedestrian by now, all things considered. </p><p>Too bad things are about to change, again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brigitte Lindholm/Hana "D.Va" Song, Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Lúcio Correia dos Santos/Genji Shimada, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani/Mei-Ling Zhou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>134</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jesse McCree Is A Very Competent Ghost Hunter, I Swear</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His phone rings and he distantly wonders if he’s finally died and gone to hell. The tone is almost mockingly bright and cheery, muffled from where the phone is vibrating under a discarded shirt on the nightstand.</p><p>He fumbles after it for a second, gets a hold of it and presses it to his ear. “What, Jack?” he instantly becomes aware of hos rough his voice sounds, low and rumbly and too sleepy to be any sort of intimidating.</p><p>The only answer he gets is a sly chuckle, and then Anas raspy voice smiling back to him. “Jess, I don’t think I’m that old yet, nor that gruff”</p><p>He sits up, rubs a hand over his face, “sorry Ana, I’ve started assuming it’s him when I get a call at this hour,” he goes for light and joking, but still isn’t prepared for when she howls in laughter.</p><p>“This hour? You mean three PM? Indeed, a strange hour to try and contact our favorite employee.”</p><p>He blinks wearily. He was aware it was late last night when he finally said goodbye to Fareeha and made his way home, but it’s out of character for him to sleep this late.</p><p>Ana continues to talk as he gets up and struggles his way into a shirt – tricky when he needs to keep his ear and the phone close – and makes coffee. She gets a chuckle out of him when she drily recounts how her phone got ruined by a preoccupied Jack repotting 500 new ivy sprouts.</p><p>“That man is a mess, don’t trust him,” she lectures, but the fondness is overflowing in her voice, just like it always is when she talks about Jack.  He chuckles, then leans against the counter.</p><p>“Ana, I have a hard time believing you called just to lament over Jack?” she makes an affronted little gasp, mumbles something about ‘it being her favorite activity’ which he deflects with a string of low ‘I know’s. Then she sighs and goes quiet.</p><p>“But you’re right. We have another job for you, Fareeha is already here,” there’s the sound of her getting up and a door creeping open, then the vague sounds of people in the background, “and I want a rapport of how last night went,” two seconds of friendly silence, then “and we wanted to make sure you’re still alive.”</p><p>He huffs a little laugh, sets the coffee aside on the kitchen counter. The new job doesn’t sound pressing. If it was anything bad, she would have been at his door to talk him through a job he was probably already more than equipped to handle on his own. She might be tough, but she hasn’t stopped worrying about him in the 15 odd years they’ve known each other.</p><p>“I’ll be there in 20, what is the new one?”</p><p>“We’re not sure, but it sounds like a poltergeist.”</p><p>He groans, deep and pained. She makes a sympathetic little noise, “I promise it won’t be too bad,” she chirps in cheerily.</p><p>“You always say so,” he breathes, then starts rifling through his cupboards in search of a fitting jar to catch the damn thing in, “you always say so.”</p><p>----</p><p>The bell above the door chimes when he enters The Dandelion. Jack waves from behind the counter, his forearms are covered in rich, dark soil and he has a healthy smear of the stuff on his right cheek. He looks just a tad tired, but still as strong and dependable as always. Jesse spots the earthly remains of Anas phone, caked in wet earth and all in all rather sad looking on the dark wooden counter.</p><p>“Hi kid.” Jack just about manages the greeting before Reap is on him.</p><p>A flash of something dark shooting out from behind Jack is all the warning he gets before the dog is on him, all coarse black fur and exited licks to his face and hands. He squads down beside her with a breathy laugh. They’re almost the same height like this.</p><p>“Hey Reap,” he coos and pads down her fur, nuzzles her ears. Her big, dark eyes close halfway in content, her chest vibrates in a silent hum. She nuzzles into his thigh, looks up at him expectantly. He presses a finger to his lips to signal to her to be quiet as he looks up at Jack – when he sees that he’s turned away, pruning a honeysuckle he slips her a couple of treats from his pocket.</p><p>She gobbles them down without a sound.</p><p>“When you’re done spoiling her, Ana is out back. She has a job for you,” Jack deadpans without turning around to look at him.</p><p>“Spoiling? Ain’t my fault you don’t give her the love she deserves. Ain’t that right girl?” he pads her head and he could swear she gives a faint nod.</p><p>“Whatever you say, kid, but if I were you, I wouldn’t keep Ana waiting,” he finally turns around and faces him, glasses pushed down low on his nose, “that lady has a way of knowing everything. She knows you’re prioritizing the dog over her right now.”</p><p>Jesse laughs, then pads Reap one last time and gets up.</p><p>“If you say so chief.”</p><p>Jack rolls his eyes, then calls Reap back behind the counter with a low whistle and gets back to work as Jesse pushes the door open and leaves the storefront.</p><p>It’s cramped back here.</p><p>Most of the space in the back of The Dandelion is what might look like a regular old mess to the untrained eye: Shelves packed with books and dried herbs from floor to ceiling, irregular stacks of paper pushed to the side of the rooms, weird little trinkets and charms scattered haphazardly about. Flowers and plants not unlike those displayed in the store itself, but unlabeled and growing wildly over the shelves, leaves and vines tangling.</p><p>In reality it’s the best managed archive and storage room Jesse has ever been in. All the materials Jack and Ana won’t sell to anyone stumbling into The Dandelion and all the odd books of magic and myth they’ve gathered over the years.</p><p>And then there’s the repurposed breakroom in the very back. He ducks through the bead curtain to enter.</p><p>Fareeha is sitting with her back straight and both feet up on the massive dark oak table dominating the room. Her dark hair is up in a short ponytail and she’s toying absentmindedly with her dog tags.</p><p>She looks up when she hears Jesse entering, “You look dead,” she deadpans and does a little salute-like wave</p><p>“Well thank you, you look as lovely as ever,” he tips his hat slightly, but still catches her eyeroll as she pulls her feet down from the table. He studies her for a second. To be honest, she looks pretty roughed up as well, she’s just better at looking put together than him. There’s a slight dark around her eyes and he’s pretty sure her hair hasn’t been brushed or washed today.</p><p>“Hello Jess.”</p><p>He turns to properly greet Ana. She’s standing by the huge, metal counter that stretches along the entirety of one of the walls. A pot is standing on the stove behind her, bubbling minutely and filling the room with a slight sweetness.</p><p>She steps closer to him, grabs one of his hands and maneuver him to sit down beside Fareeha, then jumps up to sit on the table in front of them, leans forward to rest her forearms on her knees and fixes them both with one dark eye.</p><p>“I waited till you got here, Jesse. Now, report.”</p><p>It’s times like these Jesse becomes aware of how terrifying Ana must have been back in her military days. Usually it slumbers under her uneven smiles and witty remarks at Jacks expense. But then she goes into work mode and her hard edges shift into focus, the eyepatch suddenly a grim remark of what her time on the battlefield cost her.</p><p>Fareeha shifts next to him, their eyes meet quickly and it’s clear they’re both unsure how to tell this tale. </p><p>“We got it,” he starts, nodding to himself, “took longer than expected but, we got it.”</p><p>Fareeha nods along. Jesse almost hopes they’ve gotten away with that as way of explanation, but Anas lone dark eye narrows in suspicion.</p><p>“Forgive me <em>habibi</em>, but you both look dead tired. What actually happened?”</p><p>Jesse shrugs. He steals a glance at Fareeha, who looks just as exasperated as him, they both know there’s no getting out from this – Jack is smarter than people give him credit for and he knows people, he’s absolutely dead right; Ana does have a way of knowing everything.</p><p>“I banished it,” he admits and throws his arms to the side. Her eyebrows instantly lift almost comically.</p><p>“You did what?”</p><p>“Hey, you don’t have to sound like that I can-“</p><p>He’s cut off by Ana turning to her daughter and firing off a paragraph of Arabic too fast for Jesse to grasp. Fareeha answers in a more humane tempo. Her face is stoic as always, but a faint pink is spreading over her cheeks.</p><p>Then Ana throws her head back and laughs. Low and raspy. Jesse catches Fareehas eyes and smiles apologetically. She waves him off with a shrug and a barely contained, slightly embarrased smile.</p><p>Ana wipes her eye with the back of a hand, regains her composure.</p><p>“Okay, children, tell me it all. Slowly.” She leans back and rests on her hands behind her. Jesse looks to Fareeha again, then does a little ‘go-on’ wave. She sighs and starts.</p><p>“It was a mare, like you said” Anas brows knit together, but she hums and signals for her to go on, “we got it into a circle, it looked like an easy job …” she trails off until Ana spurs her on with an inquisitive hum.</p><p>Jesse takes mercy on her and jumps in to finish:</p><p>“But I hadn’t made the circle properly, so it broke through and put Reeha under its spell – you know how they are, nasty things – so I had to jump in and banish it.”</p><p>Ana looks at Fareeha with worried eyes.</p><p>“Mom it’s nothing,” she holds up her hands in a disarming wave. Anas look makes it clear she will be checking up on her later, but lets it go for now to focus on Jesse instead.</p><p>“And how about you?”</p><p>“You need to restock me on black pepper and cypress … probably also aspirin.”</p><p>She snorts and shakes her head.</p><p>“I’m glad you made it, you know the drill; be more careful and all that.”</p><p>They both nod. Jesse had honestly expected a long lesson in magic safety and for her to sarcastically but ultimately lovingly chew them out just a little bit. They’ve both been in this for too long, rookie mistakes like that shouldn’t happen anymore. He’s glad Ana talked him into learning a couple of rudimentary banishing and binding spells back in the day.</p><p>“What’s this new thing you have for us?” he asks when the silence has stretched long enough. Ana nods to herself, jumps off the table. She goes back to stirring the pot with one hand, fishing a notepad out of her pocket with the other.</p><p>She tosses it to them as she begins to explain the job.</p><p>“It’s a minor haunting, sounds like a poltergeist to me – hopefully you’ve brought a container Jesse?”</p><p>He hums affirmatively.</p><p>She points to the notepad she’s tossed them “the address is on there, it isn’t too far, I think Jack has a couple deliveries so he can take you out there.”</p><p>Fareeha looks visibly disappointed she won’t get to take her motorcycle. Jesse’s rather glad he won’t have to cling to her and fear for his life. Listening to Jacks music might be a task, but it probably won’t make him give up the ghost.</p><p>“You should have what you need, but I’ve made-“ she trails off to go pick up two little glass vials from a drawer. She pours the sweet smelling, dark liquid from the pot over into them, “a little more hex-breaker,” she hands them a vial each, “for emergencies, I used my last agrimony, so if you pour it all out on some poor lower spirit there’s no more custom tea blends.”</p><p>She fixes Jesse with a level stare. He shrugs with a little nervous laugh. Not his proudest moment, but any sort of spirit jumping at your face seems like an emergency when you’re 18 and just found out magic’s a thing.</p><p>“Call me if anything happens.” She fixes them both with her signature Mom Look, then draws them both in, kisses Fareeha on the forehead with a mumbled prayer and lifts Jesses hat to ruffle his hair. Something in her eyes change as they’re about to leave. Grows both softer and rougher somehow, like they open to reveal a sharp pain usually left unseen.</p><p>A small, tired smile hangs around her lips when she speaks: “and be nice to Jack, it’s been six years today.”</p><p>----</p><p>The address is a small, suburban home about 20 minutes from The Dandelion. When they exit the store, Jack is in the progress of loading up the navyblue delivery van. The sweet smell of the carnations hangs pleasant in the warm afternoon.</p><p>Fareeha takes the back seat while Jesse scoots into the passenger seat. She does a final check of her backpack; she pulls out the grounded acorns and dried clover – Jesse hands the jar he’s brought back to her and she accepts it with a low huff. “I think we’ve got it all,” she nods slowly to herself, taps her fingers against the lid of the jar thoughtfully.</p><p>Jesse twists around in his seat to look at her, “let’s get this one in a less messy fashion.”</p><p>She sighs and waves him off, a slight smirk on her lips. “You won’t get to steal the honor for this one, big guy.”</p><p>He barks a short laugh and turns around again just as Jack climbs into the seat beside him.</p><p>“Feet down, son,” he looks warningly at how Jesse is already sneaking his feet up on the dashboard, then types the address into the GPS and turns on the music. Jesse obliges, he doesn’t feel like getting the entire ‘all the accidents I saw back when I worked at the ER’-speech again.</p><p>They pull out of the driveway just as the music really gets going. It’s nothing like the usual dad rock Jack subjects them too. Instead it sounds like something out of stage show, and the lyrics are in a crisp and clear Spanish.</p><p>Neither of them comment on it, but Jack hums along with a voice rough from disuse, Jesse and Fareeha starts singing along as well after a beat. It was one of Gabe’s favorites, the first Spanish he ever taught Fareeha.</p><p>Jacks hands tighten on the steering wheel and Jesse wants to reach out and touch him. He’s had six years to prepare and yet it still feels too raw to ask Jack if he’s okay. He knows the answer anyway.</p><p>The car passes over a bump, the small bouquet of cypress, rosemary and sage dangles from the rearview mirror.</p><p>----</p><p>Jack waves as he lets them off at the supposedly haunted house. He still needs to deliver his flowers, so they’re left alone on the pavement in a neighborhood that is decidedly not very haunted looking.</p><p>The late afternoon light is a soft orange against the white façade of the house, casting slanted beams through the spacious windows. The garden is simple, but relatively well kept. It’s utterly surrounded by near identical buildings.</p><p>“Do they know we’re coming?”</p><p>Fareeha scoffs, “yes, do you think mom would risk a breaking and entering charge for a poltergeist?”</p><p>He shrugs with a smile, “I stopped assuming what your ma will or won’t do a long time ago.”</p><p>“Probably a good plan.”</p><p>She shakes her head slightly to focus, slings the backpack over her shoulder and shifts into costumer interaction mode; becomes softer and a lot less intimidating that it should be possible for a 6’1 woman who’s 80% muscle and military training.</p><p>He gallantly holds the gate to let her in, which she huffs at, but accepts with a sarcastic little bow. He keeps behind her as she presses the doorbell.</p><p>The door swings open to reveal a short, Asian man with kind eyes. Fareeha introduces them with a gesture to Jesse:</p><p>“I’m Fareeha Amari, this is my partner Jesse. We’re here from The Dandelion, I believe you planned the visit with my mother, Ana, over the phone?”</p><p>He nods enthusiastically and lets the door swing open to let them inside. “Yes, yes. You’re here for the ghost!” Jesse has to keep his face from cringing at the open acknowledgement of their job, instinctually he looks around to check if anyone else heard the mention of ghosts, but they’re far from the road and already halfway into the house.</p><p>“It started a month ago,” their client explains, “terrible noises at night. At first, we thought it was our daughter staying up late, but we figured she isn’t capable of that sort of noise,” his eyes crinkle in mirth. Cheery indeed for a supposed haunting victim, but Jesse has learnt that most people call them more out of curiosity than genuine belief in the supernatural.</p><p>“Where do the noises origin from?” Fareehas dark eyes are scanning the insides of the hallway intently, every bit the serious paranormal investigator.</p><p>“It follows our daughter around, we think,” he loses part of the smile, “but it’s a bit all over the place to be honest.”</p><p>Fareeha nods, it all sounds very much like a standard poltergeist hunting. Jesse’s already thanking whatever part of the pantheon is currently listening in for Fareeha being with him. He might have a certain charm about him, but most parents are skeptical at best when he tells them the entity is definitely tied to their young teenager and he will need to be alone with them to get rid of it.</p><p>Instead Fareeha leads the conversation, sits the bemused dad down and gives a short description of what they do, made to sound like the ghosthunting seen on various, mostly fake TV-shows. At least she omits that she herself is a witch and her companion not exactly human. That usually takes it from ‘delightfully whimsical’ to ‘deranged’ for most clients.</p><p>“These kinds of ghosts, they’re usually tied to children or teenagers. We can banish it rather easily, cleanse the rooms, but we need to be in contact with the host.”</p><p>He nods thoughtfully through the explanation, visibly thrilled by the theatrics of it all. At the mention of a ‘host’ there’s a flash of worry through his eyes.</p><p>“Don’t worry, your daughter will not be in danger. This isn’t the exorcist and she isn’t exactly possessed,” she soothes before he can ask, “the ghost just uses her as an- an anchor to this world I guess you could call it.”</p><p>Jesse can’t hold back a smile at her expression, dead serious. She practically eats poltergeists for breakfast. Once they localize the thing it’ll be five minutes tops. Ana finds it untasteful when they time the banishings, but Fareeha’s always been competitive.</p><p>He leans against the kitchen counter. The client is too engrossed in what Fareeha is telling him to possibly be offended by his lax attitude.</p><p>This will be easy, positively routine.</p><p>The daughter is not routine.</p><p>Her bedroom is upstairs, and the door swings open to reveal her sprawled on the bed, head hanging off the side and feet stretched up against the wall. She’s wearing a pink sweater big enough for Jesse to looks small in, garish blue shorts and thigh-high socks that are neither the same color nor length; one is solid black the other blue peppered with white stars.</p><p>The room doesn’t match her bubbly appearance at all. A broad desk supporting a computer more akin to a spaceship than a home appliance dominates most of the wall opposite the bed. Mechanical parts Jesse couldn’t name if you put a gun to his head litter the floor.</p><p>She pushes one headphone off her ear, looks up at them with eyes both inquisitive and endlessly bored. She shoots them a relaxed peace sign.</p><p>“Hiya.”</p><p>Jesse instantly likes her.</p><p>“Hi Hana. This is the ghost hunters I told you about!” her dad chirps in.</p><p>“Mr. Song,” Fareeha cuts in, in full business mode now that the host is in sight, “I need to confirm that the ghost is indeed a poltergeist, then I will have to ask you to leave the room to banishing the thing.”</p><p>He looks slightly disappointed he won’t get to see the magic happen, but nods anyway. Fareeha turns from him, focuses all attention on Hana.</p><p>“Ms. Song, can you explain your experience with the entity?”</p><p>She sits up and pushes the headphones all the way down around her neck. She looks somewhere between bored, curious and like she thinks it’s all some kind of weird joke. It’s pretty clear the call to The Dandelion wasn’t made on her request.</p><p>“Sure,” she folds her legs beneath her, “stuff in here falls down all the time and it sucks. I don’t touch it and then,” she throws her hands out, mimes an object falling to the ground.</p><p>Fareeha nods, it all fits the pattern.</p><p>“Do these noises come from anywhere particular?”</p><p>Hana hums thoughtfully, “I’ve stopped putting stuff up on the dresser? Cause it all came down again eventually?”</p><p>“And it has never tried to hurt you?”</p><p>Her eyes flutter to her dad, uncertain. She shrugs. “It keeps me up sometimes, and it dropped something on the desk that threw my aim off once,” she gestures to the computer, “but I’ve never seen anything, it’s just noises.”</p><p>Fareeha makes a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat.</p><p>“Okay, I’ll just do a general cleansing of the room, it’ll make the whole thing easier, then locate the ghost itself and banish it, Mr. Song, if you would be so kind as to leave the room?”</p><p>She places the backpack down and begins to fish out the tools she needs as he leaves the room with an encouraging smile to his daughter. When the door closes, Fareeha steals a glance up at Jesse. He catches the signal instantly; <em>could you check?</em> He nods faintly.</p><p>He’s mostly brought along on jobs to do the heavy lifting. Ana has long since realized she won’t be making a wizard out of him any time soon, he’s mainly there for backup and security. No matter how brilliant Fareeha is, you don’t deal with spirits alone.</p><p>But this he can do, better than any of them, who have to whip out potions and spells just to see other spirits. It gets easier closer to the full moon. He generally tries to limit the use of the power to when it’s absolutely necessary – exposing yourself to the otherworldly when your job is dealing with unruly spirits isn’t the best of ideas.</p><p>So he breathes, closes his eyes and shifts, just slightly. The world grows sharper around him, sounds pronounced and smells almost overpowering. Fareehas breathing is calm and controlled as always, Hanas heartbeat quick and strong.</p><p>He opens his eyes and is instantly treated to the image of a dresser shining like the sun. It’s definitely taken a liking to that part of the room. The light is painfully bright, a garish light green. The sweet tang of magic seeps through the air. He swallows, then wills himself to shift back out of the spiritual awareness.</p><p>“It’s definitely in there, and it is a poltergeist.” He nods to the dresser, Fareeha just huffs her understanding, already in the progress of crushing juniper berries between her fingers for a quick cleansing of the room. She hands him granola bar that he absentmindedly wolfs down – he learned the hard way how critical it is to gain back some energy after any sort of direct contact with the other.</p><p>Hana is watching Fareeha with eyes big and dark, feigning bored disinterest like any self-respecting teenager would. When Fareeha starts mumbling in low, precise Latin, she can’t keep from leaning slightly forward on the bed.</p><p>She looks slightly disappointed when nothing happens. The leaves dissolve in Fareehas hands with a dull fizzle, that’s neither flashy nor that impressive for magic. She wipes the last residue from the plant on her jeans and looks up at Jesse.</p><p>“Dresser you say?”</p><p>He nods and extends a hand to take the bag. She clenches the acorn and clover in her hand, hands the jar to Jesse with a curt nod and turns towards the offending piece of furniture. Jesse slings the backpack over one shoulder and watches her switch out of customer mode. It’s like she grows into herself, becomes a vision of the power that sings in her, like thunder and gunfire and like trees growing strong and slow and unstoppable.</p><p>Hana must notice it too, at least she’s starring mesmerized at her.</p><p>Fareeha holds up her palms and begins the slow spell.</p><p>For the next three seconds, time seems to slow to a crawl.</p><p>There’s the cry of something decidedly not human, shrill and light and thundering in volume.</p><p>The thing surges from the dresser, blows the doors open so they clang against the wall. It’s painfully bright, stronger than it has any right to be.<br/>
It circles the room, it’s triumphant howl following it as it flies faster than Jesse can keep up with. He feels the hairs on his arms stand on end, a headache worming its way behind his temples, crowbarring his senses open to the spirit world.</p><p>“What the fuck!” Fareeha never swears.</p><p>The poltergeist surges towards her, pulls a lamp onto the floor in its wake. It clangs against the floorboards, rolls over the rough planks. Hana swears in loud Korean, frantically clambers backwards on the bed. Jesse is already moving to body block the thing.</p><p>It hits him square in the chest, like a thing made of fire hurled at him with the speed of a train. All air is pressed out of him and he’s loosely aware he’s stumbled backwards into Fareeha.</p><p>It <em>hurts</em>. Hurts like it always does to touch these things and then some. He doesn’t feel the jar being torn from his grip, only hears it clang against the floor.</p><p>The poltergeist bounces back from him with a howl like some sick perversion of glee. His hand is surging up to clutch at the point of impact. He thinks he can taste something metallic in the back of his throat.</p><p>Fareeha is moving in his peripheral vision, her eyes are burning dark and focused. She yells a phrase that might be Latin, might be Arabic, he’s not in a good headspace to care.</p><p>The poltergeist screeches once more, it turns and flies towards Fareeha again, terrifying speed and glowing a dull, terrible green – flashing slightly. But this time she’s prepared.</p><p>She throws herself forward, tackles Jesse so he falls ungracefully on his ass, then spreads her hands.</p><p>There’s a loud <em>zing</em>, a cloud of something dark as she throws out the herbs and then the terrible, earsplitting howl of the thing as it realizes it’s caught. Fareeha curses, this time definitely Arabic, and staggers backwards.</p><p>Jesse watches as it writhes, the light of it sputtering and flashing into a sick yellow. It bathes the entire room in its sickly glow, before it seems to regain some of its green brightness. That kicks him into motion.</p><p>His chest aches with the extension when he throws himself forward, his hand close around the jar and he twists to face the poltergeist with it. He yells the first banishing spell that comes to mind. The poltergeist is instantly sucked into the open mouth of the jar.</p><p>It screeches in terrified defiance, shakes the glass furiously, but he screws on the lid and clenches it in both hands. The sounds of its cries are suddenly and violently cut off.</p><p>The silence is deafening. Their breaths hang in the quiet, all three breathing heavily and uneven. Hana is starring at the poltergeist, angrily thrashing around in its container.</p><p>Fareeha stands, her tanktop has slipped off one shoulder and her dark hair is windswept around her head, eyes wide and wild.</p><p>“What the fuck,” she rumbles. Jesse is pretty sure he looks just as shocked when he meets her eyes, sitting stunned on the floor holding onto a jar like his life depends on it.</p><p>“What the fuck,” she repeats, mostly to herself. Then shakes her head, regains some of her posture.</p><p>She turns to Hana, slowly and deliberately, cocks both eyebrows as she speaks:</p><p>“Please don’t tell your dad.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please consider commenting if you enjoy my self indulgent yelling! Comments fuel me and just honestly make me very happy :p</p><p>Thank you so much for reading!<br/>This is my first long project in forever and I'm very much exited for it. If you wanna talk, please come bother me on my tumblr! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nyresnuger</p><p>Thank you to @piip_er for helping figure out the name of the shop and a massive thanks to @soundblade for patiently letting me yell about this verse &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>No One In This Family Knows How To Properly Sit On A Chair</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>”<em>What?</em>”</p><p>Ana is already pinching the bridge of her nose, Jesse can feel it through the phone.</p><p>She pulls away from the phone for a second, her mumbled swearing muffled over the line. When she comes back, it’s with the most tired sigh Jesse has ever heard a human make.</p><p>“Jack is on his way to pick you up, please don’t make more accidents.”</p><p>Jesse nods, trusting her to catch the sentiment through the phone, just like she somehow always does.</p><p>“If it gets any worse, call, and stop beating yourself up over this, it could be much worse. Please pass that onto my daughter too,” there’s a softness in her voice before she abruptly hangs up.</p><p>Jesse sighs, pulls the brim of his hat further down his face as a small family pass on the other side of the road.</p><p>He’s still clutching the jar, the now calm poltergeist lazily circling inside. She’s right, it could be much worse, but it sure as hell doesn’t feel like a job well done. They’re immensely lucky that Mr. Song appears to have as much sense for the supernatural as your average rock. He could neither see nor hear the poltergeist, he only heard Fareeha swearing and Jesse dropping like a sack of bricks before he entered the room. Took some explaining, but Fareeha has gotten them out of weirder situations.</p><p>The real tricky situation is, that Hana did see it.</p><p>They’re okay with people believing, they’re okay with the occasional client seeing the magic they perform or see a spirit rattle around some furniture – people are better at rationalizing what they see than you might expect. Jesse has personally boarded a jam-packed train with an angry <em>skvader</em> in a pet carrier and no one seemed to notice.</p><p>This is different.</p><p>Normal people being able to see supernatural entities is both rare and dangerous. When you look directly at spirits, they tend to look back.</p><p>“Your mom says you shouldn’t worry,” he relays to Fareeha, angling for a reassuring lopsided smile. She scoffs, fiddles with the sleeves on her jacket, stamps her foot into the pavement like an impatient racing horse.</p><p>“Please give me that,” she’s using her no-nonsense voice and he hands over the jar with the poltergeist immediately. To passerby’s, it’ll look like an empty glass, but she relaxes slightly when it’s safely stored in the backpack anyway, “and watch your hands, you’re still changing.”</p><p>He huffs slightly, pulls the hat down even further and pulls his hands into the sleeves on his jacket. He hadn’t even noticed how his claws were beginning to sprout, they’re lucky they pulled off the quick exit from the house.</p><p>“Jack will be here any second,” he reassures, not entirely sure if it’s directed at her or himself.</p><p>“And then what,” her words are sharp and pointed, her natural aggression veering its head, “what are we going to do about her, Jesse?”</p><p>The tone is biting, but there’s no real malice there. Only a slight desperation swirling in her dark eyes when she turns slightly to fully face him.</p><p>“She <em>saw</em>, and from the way she was starring at you when she left, I’m pretty sure she noticed-” she falters, gestures to the entirety of him, the sudden fullness of his beard and his canines growing progressively more prominent, “noticed this whole thing.”</p><p>He can’t hold back a gruff little laugh at the description, is just about to start arguing that she could have missed it when she cuts him brusquely off.</p><p>“Well you ain’t exactly subtle now are you. And anyway, I’m not just leaving her, I’m not … I’m not going to let her deal with all this on her own.”</p><p>She trails off again, but this time there’s a strained emotionality to it. Jesse nods, stands quiet besides her on the sidewalk as the sun begins to set, huge and orange over the trimmed hedges. It’s times like these he wishes he could grab a cigarette, but Ana has made it very clear over the years; not around my daughter.</p><p><em>Should have thought about that before you gave her magical abandonment issues</em>.</p><p>It feels like an eternity before Jack pulls up beside them. His eyebrows almost disappear up into his hair, receding hairline be damned, when Jesse scoots into the backseat.</p><p>“Rough one?”</p><p>They both grumble noncommittally as the only answer. Jack shrugs and seemingly accepts it.</p><p>They drive in silence, but Jack does put some of Gabes old music on. It makes Jesses chest ache all over again, the messy job and the complicated, year old grief mixing into something that feels an awful lot like bawling your eyes out in a motel bathroom. He soothes himself with the knowledge it’s probably just his emotions overreacting to his body’s rabid change. It wouldn’t be a partial shift without somebody ending up either elated or deeply sad, or something.</p><p>“She saw, the daughter,” Fareeha murmurs after a while.</p><p>It’s Jack turn to make a grumbling in the back of his throat, <em>I know</em>. “Ana told me,” a beat passes, “haven’t exactly been your cleanest week this one.” He glances to Fareeha with a wry little smile.</p><p>She surprises both of them by barking out a laugh.</p><p>“No,” it subsides into giggling, “I got spooked by a mare of all things and look at discount wolverine back there,” she gestures back at Jesse.</p><p>He pulls his now clawed hands further into the jacket sleeves with an indignant ‘hey!’ but can’t help smiling drily at the absurdity of it all. 10 years he’s hunted ghosts, the last 7 more or less without accident and then two days in a row, things go south.</p><p>She ignores him, turns back to Jack instead.</p><p>“Maybe it’s time to go out of retirement, Jack”</p><p>“Retirement? You have any idea how heavy the big pots are? It’s you people who has it easy.”</p><p>“You know what I mean, if me and Jess are losing it.”</p><p>Jack huffs a soft little laugh, takes a hand off the wheel and ruffles her hair slightly. She makes a short gagging sound at the affection but doesn’t pull away.</p><p>“You aren’t losing anything, kid,” he glances at her over the rim of his glasses, “trust me. Things happen and you need to just power on.”</p><p>The soft tune spilling from the radio stings like getting stitches removed in the beat of silence that follows. Jack shakes his head, almost imperceptibly.</p><p>“Me and your mom, we did much worse. It’s part of the job,” he shrugs, “you think I haven’t alerted a small dozen civilians unicorns are a thing?”</p><p>Jesse honestly has a hard time believing it. He’s seen Jack handle creatures maybe twice over the years and the ease he does it with almost made Jesse understand the stunned reverence he’d seen in Gabe’s eyes once or twice when he caught him starring at Jack.</p><p>“Whatever you say, old man,” he chuckles instead. It earns him a warning stare through the rearview mirror.</p><p>----</p><p>They reach The Dandelion just as the sunlight drops from soft pink into twilight purple. The wisteria clambering along the doorframe and dangling its blue flowers from the sign over the door looks almost translucent in the low light.</p><p>Fareeha unloads the backpack in the storage room; stacks the remaining herbs and the hex breaker Ana made for them back into their place and places the jar with the poltergeist high on a shelf beside six other jars exactly like it; fully banishing spirits takes a lot of both magic and herbs - and expensive ones at that. For minor or mostly harmless spirits, they don’t bother.</p><p>The old door at the back of the breakroom opens to the stairwell that leads to the apartment above the store Ana and Jack has shared the last six years. Jesse has climbed those steps more times than he can count, crashed on their couch enough that some of his friends assumed he lived there. They aren’t too far off.</p><p>But then again, people tend to assume Jack and Ana are married too, leaving her cackling in dry laughter and him looking profoundly uncomfortable.</p><p>It already smells lovely when they stagger into the living room.</p><p>“<em>Ahlan</em>,” Ana shouts from the kitchen, pops her head out to see them stumble into her home.</p><p>“Jesus, Jesse,” it’s an expression she’s stolen from Jack and she only lets it slip when she’s particularly surprised. Takes a lot to make her swear to somebody else’s god.</p><p>“Is it that bad?” he plucks the hat off and hangs it on the wall, runs a hand through his hair – it does feel coarser than normal.</p><p>“In this light, it’s pretty bad, yeah” Jack supplies unhelpfully before he kicks off his boots and strides into the kitchen.</p><p>Ana looks at him quizzically, shoots a short glance at her daughter, then ducks back into the kitchen.</p><p>“You children need to tell me exactly what made Jesse shift like that,” her voice carries through the walls.</p><p>Ana is sitting on the dinner table when they enter, Jack in the exact same pose on the counter, each of them absentmindedly chewing on a pita. Jesse pulls out a chair and slumps down next to Ana – she wordlessly hands him a plate. Fareeha takes one herself and crosses her long legs on the floor, leans on the counter next to Jack.</p><p>Reap saunters in from the livingroom, quiet as the grave, as always, slinks down and puts her head in Fareehas lap.</p><p>“Why is he like that?” Jack is the first to speak, gesturing to Jesse.</p><p>“Maybe she’s born with it?” Jesse suggest humorlessly, Jack snorts.</p><p>“And I don’t know,” Jesse adds when the silence has stretched long enough, “it was a poltergeist but it was much … brighter I guess, than they usually are. Guess it had enough juice to do this,” he clicks his elongated claws together.</p><p>Like with most myths, there’s a grain of truth in the tales of werewolves. He does indeed change sometimes, into something awkwardly trapped between beast and man, but it isn’t exactly how people imagine it.</p><p>It reacts to power and to magical energy, not the moon itself. The full moon simply brings about enough magic to summon demons and power the heftier of Anas spells. And to change him by its strength alone.</p><p>At all other times, being exposed to the magical energy shining off spirits and spells can push his change into motion too.</p><p>It is, on other words, possibly the least practical mythological beast to be. Kitsunes and mermaids put on a glamor or fix themselves a concealing spell and <em>voila</em>. Jesse would probably explode in a mess of fangs and grey-brown fur coarser than Reaps if Ana tried something like that.</p><p>Ana studies his face, her eyes narrow in thought.</p><p>“Don’t worry mom, it’s downstairs, when it got into the container it didn’t act different than any other poltergeist I’ve handled,” Fareeha assures.</p><p>Ana shakes her head lightly. Drums her fingers over the side of her pita, contemplating.</p><p>“I’m glad you’re home,” she breathes at last. “Jesse, you’re off tomorrow, call me if you aren’t back to normal by noon,” she looses all the worry in a split second, back to casual and planning. Always about five steps ahead.</p><p>There’s a natural lull in the conversation, the quiet stretches for a couple minutes.</p><p>“But she saw, <em>umi,</em>” Fareehas voice goes strained. Her hand tighten in Reaps fur, “the girl, the host, she <em>saw</em> it. I’m pretty sure she noticed Jesse too”</p><p>Jesse looks between mom and daughter, Fareeha looks miserable at the idea, Anas face is like stone; unreadable and still.</p><p>“Do we know her name?” Ana finally adds.</p><p>Fareeha is already nodding. “We need to teach her, can’t just leave her.”</p><p>Ana hums in reluctant agreement, “might be so.”</p><p>Fareehas jaw goes tight, but she doesn’t press it. Jesse has the distinct feeling she’d go find Hana again herself even if Ana deemed it too risky.</p><p>“You said she wouldn’t tell her dad,” Ana reasons, Jesse grumbles affirmatively – Hana had agreed to keep quiet, her eyes huge and surprised, but intelligent and concentrated too. He trusts her.</p><p>“That means we don’t have to hurry, she isn’t in imminent danger” she looks up at Fareeha, “wait and see, she might even show up here on her own. Things have a habit of shaking out like they’re supposed to.”</p><p>A soft rain picks up, tabs its fingertips against the roof. It’s muffled and soft, an almost painfully homey sound.</p><p>“Lúcio’s coming in tomorrow,” Jack says to no one in particular after a beat, “Rein and Torb’s dropping by around four with a delivery,” Ana nods and hums in acknowledgement, “Jesse, if you’re back to normal I’d be nice if you could come help move stuff?”</p><p>“Yessir,” Jesse shoots a short salute – fork in hand and mouth full. Jack rolls his eyes but doesn’t comment.</p><p>----</p><p>Hanzo Shimada has his routine figured out by now. He wakes up at six thirty, eats breakfast in a sleepy blur in time to catch the train at 7:04 and stumble into the office by eight sharp.</p><p>He slogs through work, gets a lot done for the first two and a half hours, then starts doodling dragons and flowers in the margins of his notes and starring wistfully out the window.</p><p>By twelve thirty, he slinks into a booth at the local coffee shop and greets Satya with a dry ‘<em>I feel like</em> <em>dying</em>’ to which she replies an equally disinterested ‘<em>touché</em>’. They order the cheapest thing they can and eat their brought lunch in relative silence. The smiling barista with patterns shaved into the side of his head sometimes quips about the broken ‘no bringing your own food’-rule, but Satya always disarms him completely with one of her rare, lopsided smiles.</p><p>He’s back at his desk and slaving over a new building – or working the kinks out of an old equation or calling up a stubborn engineer who insists they won’t be able to realize his vision – at one thirty.</p><p>At seven past four he catches the train home, redoes his by now messy ponytail and turns the volume in his headphones up high enough it’s probably bordering on unhealthy.</p><p>Then he has enough time to water his three houseplantsm feed his fish and spend a proper amount of time laying on the couch starring at the ceiling before he cooks a spartan dinner and goes to bed. If he needs to spice it up, he works out or calls Satya to have a conversation made up mainly by soft sarcasm and loaded silence. He’s incredibly glad he knows her.</p><p>It’s good. It’s calm and simple and he rarely feels like he’s out of his depth. He’s found he likes the quiet of it all, like to pick the people who gets to fill it with great care.</p><p>It’s raining lightly when he gets up to start cooking rice and it suits him just fine. The light is blue and soft where it streams over the small kitchen.</p><p>He’s just started eating, opting to only turn on the small table lamp and leave the rest of the room in a hazy blue dark, when there’s a soft nock on the door.</p><p>He perks up instantly, a familiar alertness rushing through him, making his muscles tense. It’s been a long time since he’s seen his father, but the memories linger in his body – makes him vary of strangers at his door unannounced.</p><p>The person on the other side of the door is maybe the direct opposite of Sojiro.</p><p>She’s short and plump, her shoulder lenght dark hair hidden mostly under a thick beanie. She’s dressed weirdly for the late summer weather; white coat trimmed with fur and heavy boots reaching almost up to her knee. Her thick glasses are askew and dancing dangerously far out on her nose. Generally, she looks like somebody who’s had one hell of a stressful day.</p><p>“Shimada Hanzo?” she’s fidgeting with the sleeves on her light blue sweater, it’s big enough to eat her up. There’s something awfully familiar to her.</p><p>“Yes?” he manages, instantly aware it sounded too sharp when she recoils slightly, “can I help you?”</p><p>“Yes,” she perks up a the question, “I’m Mei-Ling Zhou, I’m an engineer on the main street apartment complex project and I-,” she trails off, clearly unsure how to continue.</p><p>“I think you might have, by accident of course,” she chuckles nervously, “have taken my notepad with you when you left? On accident of course! I asked your pretty friend - Ms. Vaswani - if she could ask you but she just said she was busy gave me your address and-”</p><p>Her face is beet red beneath the glasses.</p><p>“Oh, I’ll go check,” she instantly shuts her mouth, cutting off the long chain of excuses.</p><p>He wants to assure her it’s okay, but he’s not sure it would make her feel any better. Instead, he lingers awkwardly in the door. He does recognize her from the office now. She’s seemingly always tiptoeing around the place, apologizing for bumping into chairs and shyly making brilliant inputs to whatever project they’re currently toiling over.</p><p>“You can come in if you want?”</p><p>She sputters, but nods and shuffles in through the door as he turns to rifle through his bag after an unfamiliar note pad.</p><p>She stands awkwardly on the doormat for a second before she kicks into motion. Her eyes are big and curious as she looks around. Hanzo does a short gesture to make her sit down at his small dining table, dumps his bag besides her and starts rifling through.</p><p>He has about eight identical sketch or note pads currently loaded up in there. The fronts are blank, he has to open them to check if they really are filled with his own precise handwriting.</p><p>“You really didn’t have to,” she smiles, her voice low and melodical and still wavering just a little.</p><p>Hanzo is well and truly unsure how to handle this interaction, he’s been called a lot of things, but ‘calming’ or ‘sociable’ has never been on the list. He checks the third notebook, silent.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to interrupt and it’s okay if you can’t find it,” she’s wringing her hands together, “it’s not super important really,” he instantly knows she’s lying.</p><p>“I can leave if it’s inconvenient ..?”</p><p>He looks up at her for a long moment before it clicks that his silence is freaking her out.</p><p>“It’s okay,” he pushes the bag aside on the table, hands her a notebook with a scribble significantly smaller than his inside and snowflakes doddled all over the margins, “I think this is it?”</p><p>Her face lights up when she grabs it in both hands.</p><p>“Thank you!” her voice goes light and airy, “thank you so much!”</p><p>There’s a weird charm to her. He likes her, even if he’s unsure how to act around her. She’s nothing like collected and sharp Satya with her dark eyes and rare smiles, and yet he has a hunch there’s competency smoldering in her – her brain quick and the cluttered equations he saw in her notes impressive.</p><p>She clutches the notebook to her chest with one hand, straightens her glasses with the other and gets up with small, sharp movements. She pushes the chair in neatly.</p><p>“Thank you so much, again,” she chuckles slightly, turns to face him just before opening the door to leave “guess I’ll be seeing you, Mr. Shimada.”</p><p>She bows slightly, backs out the door with the notebook still firmly clutched in a pale hand. He instinctually returns the gesture, measured and precise in his movements.</p><p>He puts his hand on the doorknob to push it closed after her. It’s unusually cold to the touch.</p><p>It’s just when the door is closing, the pale light from the hallway shining through in a narrow line, that Hanzo sees the strangest thing he’s ever experienced in his life.</p><p>Mei lingers on the first step on the stairs, her thick coat shines in the cold light like it’s illuminated from within. He has the icy realization that he never heard her on the stairs, usually so eager to creak when his neighbors stumble home late.</p><p>She looks around quickly, that vibrating shyness apparent in every move. She must assume he’s closed the door fully, for her shoulders slump and she reaches up to pull off her fuzzy beanie and he wonders briefly if he’s lost his mind when he sees something – pale and furry – twitch slightly on her head.</p><p>She has pointed wolf ears poking through her thick dark hair.</p><p>He recoils with an undignified yelp, manages to push the door away from himself and wide open in his clumsy haste. She turns instantly and her eyes grow huge, the dim white light hanging around her subsides instantly.</p><p>The notebook hits the floor with a distant clamor when both her arms fly up, her open palms towards her, a clear ‘<em>don’t panic</em>’ gesture.</p><p>“Sorry!” her voice carries in the quiet stairwell, bounce on the naked walls, she slaps one hand over her mouth, eyes wide in surprise she shouted.</p><p>“Sorry! I’m sorry, sorry,” her face light up red, a string of less and less enthusiastic apologies tumble from her.</p><p>“Sorry,” she finishes, looking miserable and sheepish. She quickly pulls the beanie back on. Goes back to looking just as normal as she had two minutes prior.</p><p>His mind is reeling.</p><p>There’s few things left in this world Hanzo trusts, but his own judgement and his own two eyes are definitely still on the short list. He knows what he saw; clear as day this sweet, shy engineer glowing in his stairwell and with fully functioning canine ears sprouting from her head.</p><p>“What?” his voice is level and drained of emotion, performing all the levelheadedness he certainly do not feel.</p><p>She opens her mouth as if to answer just as he slams the door.</p><p>----</p><p>Jesse and Fareeha shuffle out of the apartment about an hour after sundown. Jack does the dishes, humming absentmindedly to himself. He has both of his arms submerged in the by now muddled water when his phone starts vibrating on the living room table.</p><p>“I’ve got it!” Ana calls and receives a wet thumbs up as a thanks.</p><p>That’s how Ana Amari gets to stand in her kitchen with Jacks phone pressed to her ear and pinch the bridge of her nose, like that action alone can make everything less of a mess, for the second time in maybe three hours.</p><p>At least it might tame the dull headache building after an evening of worrying.</p><p>“I will be sending her by you, Ana,” Angelas voice is very different to Jesses low drawl and yet it means the same. More damage control.</p><p>“Thank you, Angela, where is she now?” she listens patiently as Angela outlines the situation in precise and level terms; Mei is safe, but sad and shaken and currently curled up on Angelas couch, Snowball circling the entire ordeal like he can find a way to lighten his owners mood by passing by her enough times.</p><p>Ana sighs.</p><p>“Tell her to drop by whenever she can, thank you again Angie.”</p><p>The good doctor sighs right back, thanks her and hangs up the phone.</p><p>Jack look at her, clearly sensing her serious mood. One pale eyebrow raised in question.</p><p>Ana shakes her head; “kids these days.”</p><p>He grumbles in agreement and doesn't ask further questions. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading!</p><p>As always, find me on tumblr as nyrensuger - exactly like my AO3 username! - if you wanna chat!</p><p>A huge thank you to my lovely boyfriend (who sadly has no online presence to tag here) for cheering me on and to @qimbra on tumblr for being lovely and helping with Mei's characterization &lt;3</p><p>Please consider commenting if you enjoy my self indulgent yelling! Comments fuel me and just honestly make me very happy :p</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Man Talks To Fish</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoy this chapter! It grew and got significantly longer than the previous two, but it was fun to write! I have a newfound passion for Reinhardt, he has like two lines in this but I was positively beaming while writing them. He's so fun!</p><p>And again, thank you for reading!</p><p>Please consider commenting if you enjoy my self indulgent yelling! Comments fuel me and just honestly make me very happy :p</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jesse sleeps late for the second day in a row. He wakes up around eleven with a pounding headache. The only silver lining is that he’s almost fully back to normal. He wakes up to a disgruntled fairy fluttering by his window – he can see her clearly, but that seems to be the only lingering effect of the change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets up, shoots Fareeha a short message and pushes the window all the way open to let the fairy out. She looks up at him with her big insectoid eye, curious and still a tad miffed she got stuck in here through the night. Her tiny mouth flutters open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, this one’s on me,” he holds up a hand to stop her. She nods and flutters out the window. Fairies must offer spells if you do them a favor, but they have a habit of backfiring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he’s brushed his teeth and starts feeling more human again, Jack has texted him that Torb has come early, if Jesse’s feeling up to it he can drop by as soon as possible. Fareeha has responded too. A disinterested ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>ok</span>
  </em>
  <span>’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the same text he gets from back Ana when he sends her a quick ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>back to normal, ma’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>just as he’s about to leave and head to the shop. He doesn’t share the similarity with either of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun is shining bright when he makes his way to The Dandelion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Torbjörn’s blue truck is already parked outside, the swede himself lounging in the driver’s seat while Reinhardt and Jack unload it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reinhaird – a mountain of a man who would be intimidating if he weren’t always smiling and didn’t have the nicest eyes Jesse’s ever seen – is handing a huge ceramic pot out through the back of the car to Jack. They’re both sweating in the heat, Jack has pushed the sleeves on his button-down up to the middle of his bicep. Has to work on his farmers tan somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Greeting!” Reinhardt booms as soon as he spots Jesse. He recoils at the volume, at this point expected, but still overwhelming. He shoots back a casual salute, pushes his sleeves up absentmindedly and braces for when Reinhardts big hand slams into his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to see you, my friend,” he thunders, hits Jesse two times more just for show. Ana once described him as dangerously nice, Jesse finds the description apt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need my help or what?” he drawls. Jack scoffs, but Reinhardt laughs heartily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am as strong as ever!” he throws his hands out, the tattoos on his naked arms shift in the sun when he throws an arm around Jesses shoulders, points at where Jack is carrying a sack of mulch with his back turned and stage whispers, “it’s your old man over there who needs help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesse grins and answers like he always does; “he ain’t my dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It overlays perfectly with Jacks response: “I’m not his dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reinhardt nearly cries laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turns out they really don’t need much help. The truck is nearly empty, safe for a bunch of terracotta pots. Jesse easily helps getting them safely into the shop. Reap licks at his hands when he puts them down and he quickly gives her a couple of treats when he’s sure Jack isn’t looking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lúcio is in today. He’s talking excitedly with a customer near the back wall of the shop where they keep all the different kinds of flowers they use for custom bouquets. She looks a little like she doesn’t know what to do with her hands while he keeps talking – get’s on his tippy toes to better show her some of the flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesse waits patiently, cleans up a little behind the counter, shifts around some of the bouquets near the window, sits down and pets Reap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lúcio finally finishes with the client. He scribbles the flowers she wants and her contact information, waves as she leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s getting married,” he beams at Jesse as way of introduction. Jesse hums quietly in acknowledgement. He doesn’t get up. Instead Lúcio squads down beside him, holds a hand out for Reap to sniff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel like I haven’t seen you in ages?” he asks at last. Lúcio glances over at him, sly smile spreading over his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw you know how it is, gotta keep the fans happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesse snorts a short laugh. “Thought you just used your magic on them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, while you’re out there devouring virgins, I lure my adoring fans to their deaths.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just as it should be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit still for a while. It’s good to have Lúcio there. He’s nice and smiling and gets the whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing better than most, Reinhardt got a concealing spell tattooed before Jesse ever got to meet him in full beast mode and Jack hasn’t worn his pelt in years. It’s nice to have someone around who understands, even if the circumstances of their monstrosity are largely different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when Lúcios on shift, the music humming from the small speaks in The Dandelion is at it’s best.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I think Ana might have something for you again,” Lúcio runs a hand through Reaps fur, her eyes close in contentment, “she called Fareeha an hour or so ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesse keens, lets his head hang with a defeated sigh, “already? Some days I think she’s trying to kill me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lúcio shrugs. “You should have kept playing guitar if monster hunting isn’t to your taste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t all become rockstars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like something a quitter would say, and,” Lúcio holds up a hand, pauses for effect, “it’s EDM, not rock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesse snorts, but doesn’t press it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit like that, showering Reap in attention and the occasional treat (always looking up to check if Jack is still engrossed in conversation with Reinhardt), until the bell above the door rings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fareeha is clearly coming straight from practice, her hair still damp after a shower and her royal blue duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She waves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Umi</span>
  </em>
  <span> called,” she states, matter of factly, “think she has something for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesse sighs, but pats Reap one last time and gets up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have fun saving the world from monsters,” Lúcio cheers as the two of them shuffle their way into the back of The Dandelion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did she say anything?” Jesse asks, while Fareeha stuffs the duffle bag into a locker behind the counter. She shakes her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just told me to drop by, I don’t think it’s important or she would have told me to skip practice,” she shrugs. Jesse silently disagrees, the sky would have to be literally falling before Ana would ever ask Fareeha to miss the weekly practices with the junior soccer team. She’s hard, not heartless and they all know how much Fareeha enjoys it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finishes packing up her stuff, “let’s go hear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ana is, like she pretty much always is, in the backroom. For once, the big black pot isn’t simmering slowly – but a giant pickle jar full of something green and lush is standing proud right besides the stove. Protection or luck would be Jesses best guess, but he’s always been bad at recognizing potions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ana herself is bend over the big table, expression thoughtful. Her head snaps up when they enter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good to see you,” she gives Jesse an extra look over, then nods slightly to herself. “I’ve looked into-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s cut off by the clear ring of the bell from the store front and the sound of Lúcio greeting someone in his customer service voice. Her mouth snaps shut, she looks like she’s considering. Then she nods softly to herself once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Might be best to show you this upstairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesse can’t help but raise one eyebrow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Secretive are we now</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He glances over at Fareeha and they share a slightly worried look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ana quickly gathers the papers strewed over the desk in the backroom, pushes the pickle jar into a shadowy corner and leads them up into the apartment above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve barely sat down on the couch before she turns to them with that grave, unreadable expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t make sense”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesse raises an eyebrow. Her tone is dark, undeniable, her brows knitted together in thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That poltergeist, I’ve don’t the math,” she spreads the papers on the table before them. They’re covered in complicated patterns and equations – as well as healthy smears of something dark and sticky. In a few places it looks like they’ve been scorched by fire. To Jesse, most of it is gibberish, but Fareeha already looks stunned and concerned</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ana tabs a slender finger against the rough paper, circles a scribbled number.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I calculated the power emitted from the poltergeist. It would have taken ten of those to turn you like it did,” she moves the papers around slightly, brings a finger down on another number. She looks between them like she expects an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesse certainly doesn’t have one. He leans back with a sigh, throws his hands out slightly, “it was weird I’ll give you that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s more than just weird, Jess,” Fareeha hisses from beside him, leans forward to rest with her forearms on the table, “that poltergeist lost enough magic to power a flight spell in the span of an afternoon. It doesn’t happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ana nods at the analysis, “at least it shouldn’t”. Then she smiles one of her small, sarcastic smiles, the tension in her shoulders break, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’ve lost the ability to do math in my old age.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fareeha looks fittingly doubtful – Ana is as sharp as she’s ever been – but still jumps at the opportunity, “tell me when it’s time to inherit the shop,” her face splits in a sly smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ana gets up, spits some fast Arabic on the way. Fareeha answers with a short laugh and her own string of Arabic. Jesse has known them long enough to know it’s probably something along the lines of ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>over my dead body’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘if you say so’</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ana returns with a teapot. She sits down and pours just as Reap pushes the door open and joins them. The door creaks to alert them but her paws are silent on the stairs. She curls around Anas chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what do we do now?” Jesse leans forward, picks up one of the rough teacups.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ana shrugs, “wait, keep an eye out,” she takes a sip. Jesse’s pretty sure she uses just a little magic to make it brew faster, at least it’s black and strong already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leans back in the chair, one hand reaching down to scratch Reap behind one ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have another problem though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fareehas head snaps back up from where she’s been starring down at her tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Angela called last night, somebody saw Mei-Ling in her true form.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesse whistles, low and surprised. “It really is our week, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fareeha gives a short, humorless chuckle. It bleeds into a deep sigh, Reap looks up at her with big, sympathetic eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many people, who’ve seen some sort of weird magic, do we have running around out there now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ana gives a dry chuckle at that. “Only two, it could be much worse</span>
  <em>
    <span>, habibti</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fareeha looks up, eyes tired and a soft little smile clinging to her lips. “One of these days, you and Jack got to tell us whatever it is you did back in the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesse barks a laugh, the lines by Anas eyes grow slightly deeper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanzo spends most of Saturday talking to his fish. Normally, he’d call Satya. She can be incredibly kind and an excellent listener when she wants to, but he has a creeping suspicion she’d hang up with a sarcastic little laugh if he called to freak out over a wolf person at his door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went to bed with a headache, sat with his computer open in front of him and considered googling … </span>
  <em>
    <span>what exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Wolf person? Girl with fox ears? He’s pretty sure that would not have led him to anything useful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fish thrash when he pries the lid open to feed them. It’s technically their fast day, but it always helps him gets his thoughts in order to go through the motions of feeding. Fetch shrimp, open tank, twirl shrimp around in the water, watch shrimp disappear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today is no different. The two reedfish emerge slowly from their hiding place under a thick root. They circle around the tank with a reserved interest. They have no names, partly because it’s nearly impossible to tell them apart, twins circling each other lazily as they glide through the water, partly cause it doesn’t feel like his right to name them. They just live here, who’s he to decide who they are.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would not believe,” he babbles to them as they grab a shrimp each, munching happily. He only ever speaks to them in Japanese, it just feels more natural. He’s once caught himself thinking they wouldn’t understand him if he spoke English at them, not that he’d admit that to anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He talks to them softly. He’s mulled this over in his head. He’s tried convincing himself it wasn’t real somehow. A trick of the light, his mind tired after a long day, a weird piece of headwear? It all falls flat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows what he saw. The hair on the back of his neck stands on end at the thought. He relays the information to the fish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hasn’t been back. He’s tried googling her, even found her on facebook. The icy realization that there’s no pictures of her without some sort of headwear hits him quickly, but other than that she seemed completely normal. Reserved and fairly inactive on social media. Blurry pictures of snowy landscapes and a cute grey rabbit with dark eyes seems to be all she ever post. The pictures mainly got likes from the same four or five people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that he’d expected her to publicly flaunt the canine ears or the weird shimmer that had clung to her skin. It still fills him with a restless disappointment. He wants to </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word </span>
  <em>
    <span>kitsune</span>
  </em>
  <span> has echoed insistently in his head ever since the incident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, closes the tank and makes sure the lid is securely fastened. “Stay,” he mumbles, almost absentmindedly to the reedfish closest to the glass. It looks at him with its glassy eyes and doesn’t answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps up the one-sided small talk with the reedfish all through the early afternoon. Once they’ve thoroughly discussed his options (sparse) he pulls out his PC and finally caves. He opens google, considers for a beat then types.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Person with wolf ears’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The results are predictably unhelpful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries with a few modifiers, </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘real’, ‘actual’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘met a’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>all bring up nothing of value, so he tries going broader. </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Real supernatural person’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘myth creature real life’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>result in more weird stuff, then evolves into cryptid and UFO sighting sites the further he scrolls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Discouraged, he clicks on one of them – the one with the least outrageous title. Subconsciously, he angles the screen away from the aquarium, can’t have the fish think he’s some sort of ghost weirdo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The site is sleek and black and clearly old. It’s mostly what he expects out of a forum for people who staunchly believe in ghosts. Claimed sightings, weirdly intricate discussions – he gets stuck on a longwinded thread about the distinction between poltergeists and specters (the former apparently a subcategory of the latter).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And sadly, nothing about people with wolf ears who glow softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s just about to close the entire thing down when something catches his eye. It’s initially a missclick onto a thread about </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘good supernatural resources’, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the original poster wants to learn more about the otherworldly and is unsure where to start. The first handful of replies are recommendations of websites with names like </span>
  <em>
    <span>ghosthunterz, wiccawonder </span>
  </em>
  <span>and</span>
  <em>
    <span> occultistsunited. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Then, halfway down a longer reply with a picture attached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The poster outlines how they’ve gotten most of their knowledge from a flower shop of all things. Hanzo nearly scoffs and writes them off as another ghost fanatic with a too active imagination. It’s the picture that gets him. The caption is cheery and nice:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Look at this lovely mandrake I picked up last time I was there!!’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The attached picture is indeed a slightly blurry photo of a potted plant with small purple flowers. It’s the background that makes him perch up like a sighthound ready to run. It’s her, Mei. She’s partially covered by the plant held up in the foreground, but it’s unmistakably her; leaned against a counter and chatting with a short man with dreads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly checks the name of the place, then glances at the clock. It’s barely four and he has nothing else to do. With a sigh he googles The Dandelion Flowers and scribbles down an address when he finds it – unsurprisingly, it isn’t far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tiny living room starts feeling crowded when Angela shuffles through the door as the last. Fareeha has already opted to sit on the floor while Reinhardt dwarfs the couch and Ana hooks her knee over the side of the armchair.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lúcio promised to keep watch over the shop, but it still feels weird to see Jack lean casually against a wall while the afternoon sunlight is still streaming through the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei looks exactly like someone who spent a not insignificant amount of last night feeling horrible. She’s brought Snowball with her, the rabbit sits patiently in her fur trimmed hood hooking it’s chin over her shoulder, its clever eyes fixed on Reap slumbering under the coffee table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reinhardt scoots over on the couch to let her sit, throws a massive arm around her shoulder and draws her into a sideways hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Anas voice is soft and attentive. Mei separates herself from Reinhardt so sit up straight. She pulls of her beanie, her bright white ears wiggle slightly, then press down against her hair when she begins to explain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot something and had to go pick it up at a colleagues house. I wanted to transport back home, but he saw me with the hat off,” she’s wringing her hands in her lap, “he didn’t take it very well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack catches Jesses eyes instantly, neither would class themselves as violent men, but they’ve dealt with the consequences of people reacting to magic in violent or malicious ways before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ana is, as always, more considerate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay Mei?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei considers for a second, then nods. Reinhardt squeeze her slightly, she looks like she appreciates the affection, but also like it’s a tad claustrophobic. Snowball cleverly avoids being caught up in the embrace by crawling over her shoulder and into her lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Angela who breaks the silence with a deep sigh. Her ponytail bobs when she shakes her head slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We still have a problem,” Ana hums in reluctant agreement, “Mei works with this man, they will see each other again on Monday, and from what you’ve told me, Mei, we don’t know how he might react.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, we have more problems than that,” Angelas gaze snaps to Fareeha when she speaks, and Jesse certainly doesn’t miss how Fareeha blushes and ducks her head under the attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice doesn’t waver when she speaks, “it’s not as dire. But a girl saw a poltergeist yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saw?” Angelas voice is soft and curious. Fareeha shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She could just … see it? Her dad didn’t have the gift, we think she’ll keep tight but …” she does a little indecisive wave, let’s the rest hang unsaid between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angela nods, her eyes are a little unfocused, it’s clear she’s in deep thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think there’s much we can do right now,” Jesse tries when the silence starts to stretch into uncomfortable. Ana is already nodding slowly, but Fareeha is looking more skeptical. Mei almost looks scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs, “Mei’s guy might convince himself he saw nothing, or that it was a costume, or one of the thousand other things people try to tell themselves. And Hana? She won’t tell, we have time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fareehas dark eyes are unreadable, but there’s an uncomfortable pull in the corner of her mouth at the notion they can do nothing about Hana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he’s right,” Ana cuts in. Her eyes soften when she looks at her daughter, “we can’t take this decision for Hana. We need to do this smartly, and right now, I think the best we can do for her is wait. I’m more worried about Mei. How did he react?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei squirms a little. Snowball looks up at her, his pristine white belly shines in the light. “He … he just left?” she glances at Angela, who nudges her on with a rolling hand movement and a quiet smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he was shocked, yeah,” she pushes the glasses up on her nose. Her ears flex in uncertainty, but they’re no longer pressed to her skull in discomfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>”See? We don’t even know if he put two and two together at all. It’s not like he’s gonna show up at our doorstep and demand a lesson in monsters,” Jesse supplies with a lopsided smile at Mei. At first, she looks terrified at the mere idea, then she catches onto the joking tone and chuckles slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we can just … ignore it and let him convince himself he saw things?” Jesse finishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ana looks thoughtful. “There’s still the issue of Monday. I don’t want Mei to face an uncomfortable situation when she meets him again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei raises her hands as if to brush off the concern, until Angela fixes her with a pointed glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can figure something out,” Ana assures, “Jess or Fareeha can accompany you maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re both already nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he saw Mei, can’t we just make him forget?” it’s Jack who pitches in. Ana and Angela gasp in near unison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not going to use magic on a random stranger, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ya hmar</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Ana hisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He holds his hands up in surrender. “Just saying, if things get real ugly, it’s a possibility.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ana swears some more in mumbled Arabic but doesn’t disagree outright. Mei looks on with eyes huge and dark, ears flipped back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter,” Angela sighs, her shoulders slumping, “if we’re lucky you won’t see him till Monday, maybe not even then.” She smiles gently at Mei, her eyes flickering lightning quick to Fareeha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>”He’s not a problem, we’ll make him think he imagined it all. Now Fareeha, would you mind telling me about this Hana of yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angela gets up, waving Fareeha along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, when Jack catches Jesses eyes, Jack is smiling that boyish, knowing smile of his. Jesse can’t help but reciprocate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanzo feels cold all over when he arrives at The Dandelion. He’s checked the address maybe fifty times, but all doubt vanishes when he sees the man moving around flower arrangements outside the shop. Short, clad in green from head to toe with a thick mane of dreads tied in a ponytail. There’s no doubt it’s the same man from the picture of the mandrake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly comes to a standstill on the pavement. He had half expected this to be some weird coincidence, a weird game that would end in a dead end – expected but still tainted in slight disappointment. His battleplan had included ‘find the place’ and ‘go there’ but not much more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What do you say?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Excuse me sir, do you practice the dark arts at this establishment?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s unsure if he should feel lucky or unlucky when ponytail spots him, standing awkwardly at the edge of the store, and sends him a blinding smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello! Can I help you with anything?” he shoots Hanzo a gesture like something between a finger gun and a wave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No I’m just,” he’s already in defense mode, like he’s somehow committed a crime just by being here. Luckily, years of training at keeping up appearances saves him, he answers on autopilot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just taking a look,” he has to fight back the urge to rub at the back of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ponytail still looks a little off at his words. He suspects he might have sounded curter than strictly necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, tell me if you need anything!” he shoots Hanzo a lax peace sign and turns back around to water a cluster of pink flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dutifully, Hanzo goes inside the store, if nothing else then just to keep up the front of a curious customer. It’s nice, even if it does look like the kind of place you could perform rituals of dark and ancient magic. The ceiling is low, the walls dark planks and the floor rough cut stone. Everything is covered in greenery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buckets on the floor host cut flowers while potted plants stand in neat rows on low tables near the windows. The back wall is covered in a selection of the most lavish flowers, right next to a counter with a section clearly meant for putting together bouquets. Even the ceiling is dotted with a weird mixture of dried bouquets reaching down and pots hanged from hooks above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It smells like earth, green and alive. It also feels a little like he imagines it would be like being inside his closely planted aquarium.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As far as he can see it’s empty in here, ponytail has started whistling an upbeat melody from outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pinches the bride of his nose. What now? He has half a mind to abandon this weird project. He already know the fish will understand and Satya will bark a short, biting laugh when he tells the story as it is so far. It’s enough for him, he can just forget it all. Go back to work Monday and really, really hope Mei isn’t wearing a hat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s already starting to turn when a man emerges from a bead curtain behind the counter. He’s tall and athletic, his hair a stark white and his face marred by three faded, diagonal scars. He gives Hanzo the tiniest of smiles and a little awkward wave. His mouth opens to greet him, but Hanzo has no time to acknowledge his presence before his eyes must grow comically large.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man looks behind him, clearly startled by whatever shocked horror must be apparent on Hanzos face but Hanzo has no time to focus on that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For there she is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She must spot him at about the same time, at least her dark eyes open wide behind the glasses and her hands fly up to pull the beanie down even further over her ears. She gives an undignified little squawk and physically moves behind the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything feels slightly surreal. The world hangs suspended for a terribly long second, a breathless stillstand before the scarred man apparently catches up on the situation. He whips his head between them, moves to stand more firmly in front of Mei.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, can I help you with anything?” his voice is measured and calculating, his eyes are a sharp blue behind the glasses. One of his hands is already rising, like Hanzo is a wild animal that needs calming. Hanzo is pretty sure the gesture is subconscious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-“ again, he’s terribly unsure how to proceed with this entire thing. There she is, still clutching on to the sides of her beanie with both hands, pulling it down as far as it will go. About as suspicious as she could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” the voice that cuts through the tension is sharp and demanding, light and crisp with some sort of Germanic accent. Hanzos eyes whip to the woman emerging from the door behind Mei.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s blonde and carries herself with proud confidence. Her pale eyes flicker between him and Mei, calculating and intense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mei, do you know this man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanzo is pretty sure, from the way the blonde is looking at him, that she’s acutely aware how he and Mei know each other. This is formality.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei nods anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Angela, this is my coworker, Hanzo,” she does an unsure little wave, smiles at him like she’s apologizing. The chuckle that escapes her sounds more like a defense than actual laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angela slowly lays a hand on her shoulder as if to support her, fingers tightening in the blue sweater. An almost imperceptible shiver runs through Mei.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we help you with anything?” it’s the man again. He’s still positioned firmly between Mei and Hanzo, but now leaning slightly against the wall, more relaxed than before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-“ Hanzo clears his throat, he must look just sheepish enough for the blonde to stop finding him outright threatening, at least her shoulders drop slightly. This time he doesn’t catch himself and one of his hands finds its way to the back of his neck, rubbing uncertainly. “I had some questions for Ms. Zhou,” he finishes, gets his posture back in order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man glances to Angela, clearly awaiting her judgement. She seizes up Hanzo critically, her blue eyes narrow. She looks to Mei, then nods almost imperceptibly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei still looks nervous, but the fear has subsided. She even releases the beanie with a self-conscious little chuckle, Angela sends her a tiny comforting smile and she nods quietly to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bell over the door chimes when ponytail pushes through, holding an empty rack clearly meant for flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi Jack, I think we need to stock up on-“ he looks up and sees all four of them standing weirdly spaced and tense in the back, “am I missing something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack huffs a short laugh, shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing special, Lúcio, what did you say we need?” he detaches himself from the wall, his body language now fully relaxed as he goes to help Lúcio properly though the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lúcio looks confused and intrigued for a second, then launches into a speech about the apparently needed lavender. Hanzo releases a tension he hadn’t realized was pent up in his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, tell me, why are you here?” Angela turns to face them once Lúcio and Jack have left the shop. He glances to Mei, unsure where to start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had some questions for Mei,” he concludes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What questions?” she bites back, sharp but not malicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He throws out his hands, is just about to snap back something about it being ‘a business errand’ or ‘none of her business’ when Mei pipes in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay Angela,” she looks between them, smiling soothingly at Angela and almost apologetically at Hanzo, “if it’s not a bother, what did you want to discuss with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s immensely relieved none of them have thought to ask how he found her here, at least not yet. And yet, he’s still unsure how to proceed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About last night,” he opens, Mei looks at him with big curious eyes, “I’m sorry we parted like we did. Did you get home safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks momentarily taken aback by the question. Then she shakes her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s fine. Yes! I did get home just fine, thank you for asking,” she straightens her glasses, “I’m very thankful you were willing to help.” She smiles a bright smile, smooths down the front of her sweater to calm her hands, “I’m very sorry if I startled you in the stairwell, it’s …” she trails off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanzo is equally unsure how to proceed. “What … what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei’s big brown eyes flutter to Angela, the blond herself is expressionless. Calculating and observing. Her hand once again finds its way onto Mei’s shoulder, kneading at the soft sweater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! I dropped the notebook!” she wrings her hands together, “I’m terribly sorry if it startled you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles sweetly, eyes crinkled almost all the way closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But your head?” his voice is flat, reduced to the least expressive version of himself by pure shock. Is she actually pretending nothing happened?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about it?” she sounds genuinely confused, her eyes constantly fluttering to Angela, there’s an uncomfortable strain on how her shoulders rest. “did you see anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes flash in a new wave of uncertainty. Then she reaches up to card her fingers through her hair. The beanie is slowly – or at normal pace, the world seemingly slows down just for him – removed from her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ears are gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure what you mean?” she still looks apologetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanzo is hit with cold dread, what if he really did imagine it. Animal ears on a person, it’s utterly ludicrous. And yet he was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she … she </span>
  <em>
    <span>glowed</span>
  </em>
  <span> softly and the ears twitched, alive and functioning, when he opened the door and scared her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at her. He’s pretty sure his eyes must be narrow in suspicion as he studies her, but he doesn’t really have it in him to care at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs a little self-conscious laugh, push her sweater down again even if it’s already completely free of wrinkles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you Monday,” he turns around and leaves feeling thoroughly weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that went real smooth,” Angela whips around when Jesse and Fareeha push through the bead curtain just as the door slams after Hanzo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs, “improvised, but it worked,” her shoulders lift in a short shrug, “hadn’t expected him to be here when we went downstairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei looks apologetic as she brushes over her shoulder to remove the improvised conceal spell. Her ears flex as they reappear on her head, she winces and finally relaxes fully. The thing people don’t tell you about concealment spells is how truly uncomfortable they can be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never been so stressed in my life,” she chuckles, the relief clear on her face as she pulls the beanie back on. Angela hums in agreement, “why was he here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angela makes a short sound, a mumbled </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Some weird coincidence? Ana would say faith, probably.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That gets a heartfelt chuckle out of Mei. The two look at each other, clearly slightly shocked their improvised little bluff actually worked. Then Angela turns to Jesse and Fareeha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what about you two? You’ve been eavesdropping or what?” the corner of her mouth quips up, one well-groomed eyebrow raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Jesses time to shrug, “Wanted to come down here, then you blocked the way. You really think he would have taken well to more suspicious strangers emerging from the dark?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorts, makes a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah you’re right </span>
  </em>
  <span>noise in the back of her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Angie, you should really work on the cover, we heard half of the conversation and even I thought you were suspicious as hell. Halfway thought you were gonna gnaw his face off there,” he laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She winces good naturedly, “seeming him here was … unexpected won’t lie to you,” she shakes her head to gather her thoughts, looks to Mei.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we should really get going, hope we won’t have to pull off more scenes like that one on the way. I’ll walk you to the train Mei.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mei waves goodbye as they leave the store. Through the windows Fareeha and Jesse watch as Lúcio hugs Mei enthusiastically and Jack says something that makes Angela laugh a short, bubbling laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s pretty though,” Jesse musses, leans with his hip against the counter. They’d seen Hanzo in glances before hurriedly pushing up against the wall before he saw more strangers bubbling out of the backroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of Mei’s sparse descriptions of him had prepared Jesse for the sharp jawed, slightly mean looking man himself, looking weirdly adorable in his obvious confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re talking out loud,” Fareeha informs him with a dry chuckle dancing in her tone. He punches her playfully in the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Somebody needs to make sure you know what counts as a pretty man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” she snorts, rolling her eyes, “doesn’t mean you have to stand there like a romance novel protagonist and sigh after the first one stumbling into the store.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re one to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises an eyebrow in question. The grin that splits his face is downright predatory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just going to say ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Angela</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ and leave it at that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shuts her mouth with a snap. He cackles in laughter.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so, so much for reading! This is such a self indulgent project and I enjoy writing every word, I had never imagined other people would find this verse interesting too &lt;3</p><p>For questions, inquiries or just if you just wanna talk, find me on my tumblr; nyresnuger (just like the AO3 name)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jesse McCree Is Totally Very Smooth, I Swear</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for your patience about this chapter! It got a tad longer than expected, I hope it's worth the wait!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hana can’t sleep.</p><p>The night is gentle, pavement damp and glinting in the lamppost light. Last she glanced at her phone the time had just ticked past two AM and she hasn’t checked in a while.</p><p> The first night she slept like a log. Weird, technicolor dreams, seeped through by a pale green light dominated her sleep, but she slept. Today is different. Everything has had time to solidify, become somehow tangible and now it’s all racing through her mind.</p><p>Things are slowly falling into place. Not an hour has passed where she hasn’t suddenly recalled something – an event, a feeling, a weird occurrence – that suddenly made much more sense. The bugs over the lake in summer, too bright and too human in their proportions to be truly insectoid, the pulsating light in the attic. A thousand little things too small and too easy to excuse <em>up till now</em>.</p><p>She’s not sure when it started. She can’t recall ever being scared by anything. Even now, she can’t find it in herself to be truly afraid.</p><p>Confused and a tad overwhelmed, sure, but never scared.</p><p>She leans her elbows on the windowpane. It has started to rain, a soft drizzle. It blurs the outline of the buildings, the lampposts turn to hazy sentinels in the dark. It’s a strangely fitting weather for magic and mystery.</p><p>The droplets run together on the open window, become heavy and drooping until they carve hypnotic shapes with their wet trails.</p><p>It’s almost easy to get caught up in them. In them and in the smell of wet earth and the cool breeze and not think of anything. Just lie in the windowpane and watch, wonder at a world she knows so intimately and – apparently – not at all.</p><p>Yet something pulls her out of the daze.</p><p>She isn’t sure when she becomes aware of the movement. She’s half convinced she’s dozed off when she notices it. A rustle in the bushes right besides their neatly trimmed hedge. It’s the faintest of movements, but it’s there. Something dark shifting over the grass.</p><p>She suddenly feels very cold all over.</p><p>The shadow slinks up, suddenly stirs and flashes like an old TV flickering on. And then it starts moving. Hana squeaks, her heartbeat speeding up. She should yell, she should alert somebody.</p><p>And yet her fingers curl around the edge of the window. She watches, transfixed, as the shadow moves through the garden, comes to a halt beside a flowerbed. Her mind is screaming at her to move, to at least tell her dad. To turn on the light and laugh when the shadow disperses – simply a figment of her imagination.</p><p>But she doesn’t move and it doesn’t disappear. It remains, a figure of pulsating dark in the low light.</p><p>When it suddenly flashes like static again, leaving lingering traces of pure black in the dark, it does kick her into motion. She staggers backwards, then thinks better of it and lunches towards the window, her hands reaching to pull it shut. A surprised yelp is bubbling up her throat.</p><p>Her hands never make it to the edge of the window.</p><p>“Don’t do that, it’s rude.” There’s a crackle of electricity in the air, the smell of ozone and something metallic. A static twitch and a soft click like something falling into place. Pieces of dark materializing and contracting into the shape of a person.</p><p>A person with one elegant hand closed around the edge of the window, keeping it open, the other placed firmly over Hana’s mouth. Her long, bright purple nails dig into Hanas soft cheek.</p><p>“Keep quiet for me, <em>pobrecita</em>.” Her voice is soft, but the tone biting and sharp. Darkness flutter about her like specks of sunlight through foliage, coagulate and dissolve about her skin, her hair like oil in water.</p><p>Hana’s eyes must be the size of dinner plates. The dread hasn’t fully caught up yet, surprise and stunned awe reached her first. She jerks back. The shadow woman frowns when her hand is no longer pressed over Hana’s mouth.</p><p>“Please don’t scream,” she sounds almost bored.</p><p>Truth be told, Hana herself is halfway surprised when what tumbles from her lips isn’t a scream. Instead her voice is breathless and high pitched in shock: “What?”</p><p>The shadow woman smiles. It’s lopsided and sharp. Hana notices for the first time that she’s seemingly floating in the dark outside the window – it seemed like one of the least weird things about this whole situation.</p><p>She twirls a lock of her hair around a finger, it flows like dark water, dissolves and reshapes continuously.</p><p>“You’re special you know that?” she leans her elbows on the windowpane. Her eyes are intelligent, pulsating with a soft light, “not a lot of you can see things like me.”</p><p>“No!?”</p><p>“No,” her hand drops, dangles from the windowsill. Her eyes turn sharp and focused when her head snaps around to stare directly at Hana, “it’s very rare, <em>reinita</em>, and I wonder why you can do it.”</p><p>Hana stumbles back further when she once again flashes like a screen flickering on, becomes specks of something dark before reshaping inside the room with a sound like low static. This time she does yell. It’s a high and strangled sound, cut off abruptly when the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and she tumbles ungracefully down onto it.</p><p>The shadow woman stands still. She looks vaguely disinterested, at least she isn’t outwardly threatening – even with the constant shifting dark around her. She looks mildly disappointed at Hana’s scream.</p><p>“Why are humans this dramatic?” she rubs a hand across her eyes, mumbles some more in low Spanish. Dark particles drip from her arm at the movement. Hana watches her, her chest rising and falling rapidly.</p><p>“What do you want?” her voice is airy and weak, but it gets a reaction. The shadow lady shrugs, smiles at her with slow consideration.</p><p>“Wanted to see what you were,” she inspects her long claw like nails, “you should probably find a way to block your magic.”</p><p>Her deep purple eyes meet Hana’s, there’s a sarcastic pull by the corner of her mouth. A slight chuckle in her voice when she continues: “or the <em>real</em> monsters might find you.”</p><p>Hana can hear bustling downstair. Probably her dad coming to check on her. The shadow woman’s words aren’t registering properly. The room is spinning slightly with her shock, everything slightly blurred and out of focus.</p><p>Everything but the swirling shadow. The details of the woman’s face carved in excruciating detail. The birthmark by her lip, the calculating look in her dark eyes. The way her entire form shifts and changes.</p><p><em>The real monsters</em>.</p><p>Now there’s definitely the sound of footsteps mulling around downstairs. When the woman takes a fluid step forward it’s accompanied by no sound at all.</p><p>“So why are you like this, I wonder?” she strides towards Hana, slinks down next to the bed. Hana’s entire body is tense, jaw locked in defiant tension, she doesn’t budge an inch when the woman stretches a slender hand towards her.</p><p>Instead she holds the eye contact steady, stares her down with intent focus. The woman clearly senses it, holds her hands up to seem unthreatening. “I’m just curios, <em>reinita</em>.”</p><p>Hana softens slightly, the woman smirks in response, her tone almost teasing; “and knowledge is power.”</p><p>Despite herself, Hana actually snorts at that one. She, strangely, isn’t afraid when the woman stretches out a hand and the sweet smell of some flower bursts from her. She barely budges when two of her slender fingers press to her forehead.</p><p>The woman, however, does react.</p><p>She recoils, her brows furrow. The sharp, self-assured air about her falters slightly, a genuine surprise shining through before she wills her face back to proud disinterest.</p><p>“What?” her voice is flat in surprise, “a beast?”</p><p>“A beast?” Hana parrots dumbstruck.</p><p>The woman’s eyes flutter to her, wide and surprised. “Why are you bound to a beast?” She bites.</p><p>“<em>What?</em>” Hana repeats back to her again, her voice is rising. Too much information she can’t comprehend or make sense off in one night.</p><p>For a beat, they stare wide eyed at each other. The sound of feet on the stairs reach them in the quiet standstill.</p><p>Slim tendrils of shadow thrash about the woman, indecisive in their movements. The same feeling is mirrored on her face. “Curious,” she murmurs, seemingly to herself.</p><p>“What?!” Hana insists, feet insistent on the stairs outside the bedroom door, “what do you mean a beast?”</p><p>The woman tilts her head, looks at her with consideration for a second. Her face splits in a thoughtful smirk. Her eyes glow and her teeth seem too pointy and too many when she speaks.</p><p>“The name’s Sombra. See you later!”</p><p>The door creaks open, and her dad peaks his head in just as Sombra turns to specks of black night and disappears with a low crack.</p><p>----</p><p>Reap is sleeping on the couch, her long legs dangling off the side.</p><p>Jesse sometimes wonders if he hallucinated Gabe, Reap and Jack all bundled up on the couch, falling asleep to superhero movies on Saturday afternoons. At least the couch seems small under Reap alone.</p><p>Ana is neatly arranging herbs on the low coffee table. Jesse watches with mild interest, he recognizes them all, of course, or she wouldn’t be sending him on jobs, but overseeing her stock is a tad above his paygrade.</p><p>Instead he sits with his legs crossed and one arm stretched up to card absentmindedly through Reaps rough fur. Ana ties up the last bundle, a small bouquet of borage. She studies the table, and everything laid out on it, Fareeha watching over her shoulder.</p><p>“This is what I need you to pick up,” she hands Jesse a handwritten list.</p><p>It isn’t as long as they can be on these weekly restocking’s. She really hasn’t had to work any high magic this past week. He reads it over once or twice before stuffing it into a pocket.</p><p>Fareeha is already back on her feet, lacing up one heavy boot.</p><p>She pauses in the door, looks back at her mom, “anything else you want us to do?”</p><p>Ana winces, halfway apologetic. Jesse and Fareeha share a look.</p><p>“If you have time, check out that coffeeshop downtown? Angela has heard rumors an <em>aerico </em>has taken hold there.”</p><p>Jesse and Fareeha both wince, Ana hums sympathetically. “Don’t know if it’s real, but she mentioned it, if you had time it would be nice if you could check.”</p><p>Fareeha nods solemnly. She holds out a hand and when Jesse hands over the shopping list, she scribbles ‘<em>hyssop</em>’<em>, </em>bolded and twice underlined.</p><p>Fareeha is quiet and concentrated as they descend the stairs and pass by Jack. She lightens up significantly when she realizes the quickest way to get to their herb supplier is on her bike. She’s all the way back to normal when she pulls on the helmet and hands Jesse his.</p><p>They’re quiet on the way there, as per usual. Banter is for lazing in the back of Jacks van, not for clinging desperately onto Fareeha’s midsection while she displays a liberal understanding of concepts like ‘a speed limit’ and ‘proper lane changes’. </p><p>It’s a long drive. By the time they reach Amélie’s small, secluded home, Jesse is sweaty and breathless and Fareeha is beaming, hair windswept and eyes alight.</p><p>Amélie is, like Amélie always is. She opens the door before they can press the bell.</p><p>“<em>Salut</em>,” she waves them into the kitchen, her mouth shaping into a hard line when neither makes a move to take off their shoes, but she doesn’t comment.</p><p>The inside of her house is possibly more witchy looking than the back rooms of The Dandelion which is saying something. Foliage presses close to the windows, coloring the light a deep green.</p><p>There’s a reason it takes too long to get here by train. It’s remote, quiet and overgrown. Gérard looks positively out of place, sitting at a table by one of the windows, reading something on his computer and sipping from a coffee mug with some sort of French pun printed on the side.</p><p>He waves as they shuffle in besides Amélie. Gérard is probably the only reason Amélie still bothers selling the herbs she grows – the absolute best – to Ana. Him and Gabe worked together back before everything went wrong, and even if Amélie is intimidating with her cavalier attitude and fine black tattoos like spider’s web over her skin, there’s very few things she wouldn’t do for her mild-mannered and surprisingly witty husband.</p><p>She stretches out a lithe hand to Jesse, expectant.</p><p>“Huh? Yeah,” he fumbles in his pockets after the list, hands it over. She studies it for about half a second before she crumbles it and tosses it to Gérard. She begins pulling what Ana needs out of drawers and closets.</p><p>“Is it not time she retires?” she smirks once everything is laid out on the table (Gérard dutifully scooting over to make room). Fareeha ignores the jab, unfolds the list again and check if everything is in order.</p><p>“Ana is doing fine, thank you,” Jesse answers instead. One of Amélie’s sharp eyebrows arch up.</p><p>“She was prepared then?”</p><p>Jesse’s eyebrows furrow. She must notice, at least she rolls her eyes slightly.</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“Don’t be thick, <em>ma chérie</em>,” she smiles at him, overbearing.</p><p>“What are you on about?” he drawls, halfway sure this is some sort of joke she’s playing on him. They’ve all been victims of Amélie’s weaponized poker face at some point. Instead, her other eyebrow joins the first, raised in surprise.</p><p>“She has not felt it?” she scoffs, leans against Gérards chair. He absentmindedly lifts a hand to intertwine their fingers as he reads on, “guess you can’t leave it to the <em>second-best</em> witch in town to sense it.”</p><p>Fareeha bristles, her shoulders growing tense, but thankfully she doesn’t react beyond that. Jesse urges Amélie on with a look.</p><p>She shrugs, drops the air of superiority and seemingly decides to tell it to him straight.</p><p>“The spirits, they were active this past week. They slumber again now, but something disturbed them,” she shrugs like it’s nothing.</p><p>“What does that mean, Amélie?”</p><p>She shrugs, looks genuinely disinterested now that it’s no longer something she can hold over Ana. Truth be told, it never really was, everyone would expect Amélie to catch onto what the spirit world is doing before Ana, it’s more of her domain.</p><p>“Nothing,<em> chérie</em>. Probably nothing. The spirits were bright for a couple of days. They are normal again now,” she sits down on the table once Fareeha has scraped the herbs into her bag, “probably just a coincidence.”</p><p>“Probably,” it comes out slow and thoughtful, he’s well aware the uncertainty is showing in his voice.</p><p>She snaps her head to the side, her long ponytail falling over her shoulder. It’s a clear sign the conversation is over.</p><p>Fareeha is done as well, seemingly content with the products Amélie had gathered for her. She’s already digging around for her wallet. Amélie accepts the payment with a critical nod.</p><p>All in all, it’s a very successful visit to Amélie. There had been times it had come close to open hostility between Fareeha and Amélie. And yet Jesse finds himself thoughtful and slightly shaken by Amélie’s words. It makes sense, but it’s somehow eerie that it wasn’t simply one poltergeist acting up.</p><p>If everything had been … bright, <em>brighter</em>, for a brief time. He’s learned by now, that magic, like so much else, is often ruled by coincidence and chance. And yet it feels like an event, like something important.</p><p>Something ominous.</p><p>He shakes his head; they have other business to worry about. He’s managed to half forget the mention of a possible <em>aerico</em> sighting. Nasty, dirty things. Unpleasant to deal with all around.</p><p>Fareeha seems to have pushed it out of her mind as well. She’s placing the newly acquired supplies in the saddlebags on the bike.</p><p>“God, I hope mom finds another supplier sometimes,” she murmurs, maybe a tad rougher with the straps than strictly necessary.</p><p>“Aw come on, Amélie can be charming.”</p><p>She glares at him as the only answer.</p><p>He huffs in laughter, crosses his arms, “the important words here was ‘<em>can be</em>’.”</p><p>She hums noncommittally, but at least it isn’t outright denial. Instead she straightens up, hands him his helmet.</p><p>“Sure, <em>can</em> be. Now, let’s go beat up a filth demon.”</p><p>----</p><p>It’s Sunday around noon, when Hanzo caves and calls Satya. She answers on the second ring.</p><p>“Got tired of talking to your fish?”</p><p>“Please, I’ve had a … weird weekend.”</p><p>She hums and he somehow knows she’s inspecting her nails with lofty scrutiny. And yet she must – as always – somehow sense exactly what he needs. At least she breaks the silence to demand he meets her at their coffee place in half an hour.</p><p>“You must not fall into chaos,” she adds as a closing remark. Her verbose, flowery way of speaking barely registers as out of the ordinary anymore.</p><p>She has already ordered when he arrives, sitting with her back straight and immersed in a book larger than her own head. She nods to acknowledge him when he slinks down beside her but doesn’t stop reading.</p><p>Instead she pushes his coffee cup towards him and does a rolling motion with the free hand to make him start speaking – eyes still locked firmly on the text in front of her.  </p><p>He leans with his elbows on the table, groans long and deep.</p><p>“I am but a deeply stupid man,”</p><p>She shrugs, <em>hm</em>’s low and like she’s agreeing, but wants more context.</p><p>“You know Mei?” he straightens up from the table to sit more like a regular person, closes a hand around the cup in front of him. She finally puts the book down, pushing it to the side and making sure it aligns neatly with the edge of the table.</p><p>“Ms. Zhou? Yes, I am familiar with her. She wanted to get in contact with you Friday, did she not?”</p><p>He nods, must look utterly ashamed and miserable. Her brows furrow. For a second, she looks genuinely worried. He lifts a hand to wave her off.</p><p>“It’s not bad. I think I scared her something good and then I … god,” he takes a long arduous sip of coffee, “I got this weird idea that she was like a … magic person?” he’s fully aware his voice is rising and becoming breathy. He also has no control over it.</p><p>Satya studies him for a long moment before a harsh little smile worms its way onto her face.</p><p>“A what?” it’s only because he’s known her this long, he can sense the sympathy behind the biting mockery.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he sighs deeply, wills his body into his usual perfect posture and control.</p><p>She looks thoughtful, head tilted slightly, eyes calculating “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Please,” he tries brushing off her concern. She fixes him with a level stare, he shrugs almost imperceptibly, “don’t know what got into me, stressful week probably.”</p><p>She hums, pulls the book closer to herself again. “A momentary lapse, I’m sure,” she looks up at him through her thick lashes, subtle mirth bright in her dark eyes, “though I am intrigued by what you thought you saw?”</p><p>He huffs a short, barking laugh, waves her off with a short movement. He can feel the pent-up tension bleed out of his shoulders; Satya so easily wrestles him out of his own head with her understated sarcasm.</p><p>“I honestly don’t know,” he shakes his head, “for a second there I thought she was … a <em>kitsune,</em> I think?”</p><p>Both her eyebrows shoot up as she starts reading again. If she’s truly worried about his mental state, it doesn’t show on her face. Instead she hums in a way that lets him know he should probably get some more sleep.</p><p>He answers with his own agreeing hum, brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose right above the piercing. “It’s going to be awkward tomorrow I fear,” he takes another sip of the coffee, shoots her a small smile, “but at least that was the last batch of weird stuff for me.”</p><p>She snorts and nods, reads on while he pulls out a sketchbook and quietly begins sketching out a dragon lazing in a poppy field.</p><p>----</p><p>Traffic slows Fareeha down significantly on the drive back. Jesse still feels a tad weak in the knees when they pull up on the sidewalk besides a small, cozy-looking coffeeshop. It’s relatively empty, they’ve managed to get there before the lunch rush begins in earnest.</p><p>Fareeha parks the bike in an alley, slings her bag over one shoulder. They lock eyes, nod curtly, <em>here we go.</em></p><p>At first, nothing seems off. The door opens with a soft jingle of the bell above it. The barista is handsome, looks like he’s slightly bored and acknowledges them with a short nod.</p><p>They quietly make their way to a table in the corner by the window. Jesse is already scanning the place, but hesitant to expose himself by shifting. <em>Aerico</em>s are finicky. Nasty, disease ridden things capable of materializing in all sorts of ways – unseen in the air, like creatures or like people – ordinary to the naked eye.</p><p>The place is relatively empty. Only near the back of the shop, a few people can be seen, most of them hidden from their view by the shape of the room. Jesse spots a few teenagers sharing something mostly made of whipped cream.</p><p>They sit in silence, both scanning for the <em>aerico</em>. A small handful of people come and go, the barista leaves them be even though they haven’t ordered yet.</p><p>“Should I shift?” he mumbles at last. Fareeha’s eyes narrow in thought. She hums indecisively.</p><p>“There’s more people behind those kids,” she nods at them and the two clusters of tables and chairs right behind them. He twists around in his chair to look; he can see somebody’s head poking up from behind a sofa but not much else.</p><p>“Do you think it’s in the shape of a person?” he turns back to her. She shrugs. Most spirits have an easier time manifesting as something unseen or less complex than a fully realized human form, it’s easier to stay concealed that way.</p><p>“I just have a feeling,” she looks rather sheepish, so he doesn’t press it, “don’t know where mom and Angela got the tip from, but figured more things could sense it if it isn’t just,” she raises one hand to make vague swirly motions in the air, signaling something intangible.</p><p>He agrees with a low hum, twists again to look at where the teenagers are finishing up their drinks. “Think it might be one of them?” he turns back to her, one eyebrow raised.</p><p>At first, she doesn’t answer, keeps her eyes concentrated on the group as they get up, wave and hug until two of them detach from the group to leave as the first. One of them coughs into her sleeve.</p><p>“Don’t frighten them,” Jesse murmurs as the pair comes closer, Fareeha hums low in agreement, her gaze flickering to her hands so she isn’t staring daggers at two inconspicuous children as they pass by them.</p><p>“There it is,” her voice grows icy and restrained, “don’t be obvious.”</p><p>The small hairs on his neck stands on edge already. “Look now,” her lips are almost still when she goes back to looking down at her hands. He leans slowly to the side, fakes searching through his pocket to look behind him.</p><p>There it is.</p><p>It’s in the form of a teenage boy. It has scooted its way to the end of the table when its companions left. It’s smiling up at the last one leaving, eyes glowing and teeth imperceptibly too sharp. Jesse can feel the pressure building behind his eyes, the energy is streaming off the thing in heady waves – it must be how Fareeha has spotted it too, he’s pretty sure she can’t see the <em>offness</em> about it, the teeth, the glowing eyes, the way its entire form shifts and blurs slightly at the edge.</p><p>He must admit, it’s a good disguise. Probably indistinguishable from a normal human to most people.</p><p>He sits up straight again, Fareeha is looking over his shoulder. To anyone watching it’ll look like she’s looking straight at him. “What’s the battle plan?”</p><p>She hums, both thoughtful and absentmindedly. “We can’t have anyone see …” she trails off, her eyes suddenly locking directly with his, “it’s looking over here, don’t look at it.”</p><p>He leans his chin on his hand, feigning a relaxed casualness he doesn’t really feel. “we need to distract the barista,” his voice is low, the cadence slightly aloof. She answers by tipping her head to the side, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger like he just flirted with her.</p><p>“I can go talk to him, please check behind it.”</p><p>When they first started doing this, their attempts at feigning normalcy in the face of spirits were clumsy and largely ineffective, now it’s second nature.</p><p>He nods, leans over the table till their hands touch. She slips him a healthy handful of hyssop, the minty smell spreads in the air. The herb burns slightly against his skin as he gets up, offers her a hand like the gentleman he’s playing the role of. The herb has strong magical ties to cleanliness and purification and it seemingly doesn’t care if there’s a difference between spirits of sickness and lycanthropy; it tries to burn it all away.</p><p>Fareeha saunters to the counter. The pretty barista perks up instantly, asks if he can help her with anything. Jesse doesn’t pay attention to the lie she rattles off. He’s concentrating on keeping the act up as he passes by the <em>aerico</em>.</p><p>It doesn’t look at him, simply sits still in the quiet café and lets its rancid energy flow, coating the air in unseen sickness. Luckily, the effect it has on him is minor, he can feel his senses being pried open, but he isn’t turning in any capacity that matters.</p><p>He rounds the sofa it’s sitting in.</p><p>Fareeha catches his eyes from the counter. She shoots him a subtle thumbs up, barista cleared out.</p><p>He’s just about to think himself lucky when he realizes it’s only two people sitting near the back of the café, empty glasses in front of them. Probably won’t be too tough to get them to leave with whatever ludicrous lie his mind springs on him.</p><p>And then Jesse almost bursts out laughing. The woman is drop dead gorgeous and looks like she’d rather do unspeakable things to him with the giant book she has her nose buried in than follow whatever silly whim he could come up with. The man is none other than Mei’s unfortunate colleague Hanzo.</p><p>Gods above, below and wherever they’re currently hiding, this man has a knack for being at the wrong place at the wrong time.</p><p>Jesse, however, seems to be in luck this time around. At least he’s just about to do the usual ‘<em>excuse me can you point me to the restroom</em>’ to get an idea about the people he’s about to herd out of a coffee shop, when the woman closes her book and angles to get up.</p><p>Hanzo stuffs drawing utensils back into a case, close the notebook, then seemingly forgets about it.</p><p>Jesse has half a mind to warn him he’s forgetting his sketch book, but those dark eyes flicker up to meet his, calculating and intelligent, and a solid chunk of his brain cells gets turned off for the time being. He pulls out his phone, pantomimes needing to check something before he can continue.</p><p>The woman rises from the sofa, mumbles something to Hanzo. Against all odds and any reason, Jesse can – in the midst of an honest to god ghost hunt - feel a slight pang of disappointment this might be Hanzos girlfriend; regal, and dignified. The thought is so out of line he almost chuckles at himself.</p><p>Neither of them seems to notice, gathering up their stuff and pushing beside him to exit. He smiles at the woman, she nods curtly, her lips neutral and her head held high. He has to will himself into not letting his gaze linger on Hanzo as he leaves. Fareeha might be out of his sightline but if she saw <em>that</em> she’d never let him live it down.</p><p>He lingers awkwardly till they’ve left, then returns past the <em>aerico</em> to Fareeha, back at their original table. She has ordered something new, stirring absentmindedly in a coffee so dark it almost seems blue – he’s fairly certain she’s messed with it with magic. A nervous gesture.</p><p>“That was quick,” she musses as he sits, “I told him there was a weird smell and it was probably something in the coffee machine. Convinced him to go out back and fix it, it should take long enough.”</p><p>He raises both eyebrows, leans relaxed on the table. “All clear back there as well, let’s get to it.”</p><p>She nods, her jaw tight. It’s pretty clear she has worked some sort of magic to make the barista stay away for a while – probably some sort of minor illusion or lock on the door as well. And still, the time they have is limited.</p><p>They both rise. The <em>aerico</em> doesn’t sense something is off before Jesse drops down beside it, closes a hand over its bicep and quickly scribbles out a binding rune.</p><p>It hisses and thrashes, losing some of its form. The energy from it sparks, Jesse instantly retracts from its side, the hair on the back of his neck already rising and pushing outwards, desperately clawing to grow into proper fur. It stares up at him with a predatory smile, its tongue lashing between pointy teeth.</p><p>Fareeha sits down opposite to it, places the hyssop front and center on the table, surrounded by a few other herbs and plants to aid in the spell.</p><p>“What are you doing here?”</p><p>Jesse never hears it spit its response, a far more troubling sound cuts across the scene. The sound of the bell above the door, the door clicking shut behind someone pushing in.</p><p>He whirls around, concentration momentarily broken. Fareeha must be distracted as well, at least the <em>aerico</em> takes the chance. It launches over the table, dissolves further into something black and writhing, unable to fully break from physical shape. She swears and dives protectively over the herbs.</p><p>Jesse only has eyes for the civilian who just walked into this scene.</p><p>It’s Hanzo.</p><p>Because of fucking course it’s Hanzo.</p><p>It all snaps into place with horrifying clarity, he’s here for the notebook.</p><p>Fareeha wrestles the <em>aerico</em> down, pulls it almost across the table so it sloshes down into her lap with a muffled screech. Her face contorts into pure disgust, but she doesn’t let it go.</p><p>Jesse is mid wince as well when he and Hanzo get direct eye contact. Hanzo’s face is unreadable, maybe a slight confusion – a tad cautiously embarrassed for walking in on what must look like A Scene.</p><p>Most importantly, he hasn’t seen the <em>aerico. </em>His hands flex slightly by his bag dangling near his hip when he starts walking into the shop.</p><p>Jesse is short circuiting. Or in the process of being possessed or experiencing acute blood loss. Something, anything to explain why he feels completely unable to move or do anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Fareeha hiss like a cat and scribble new runes into the dissolving chest of the <em>aerico</em>. They’re damn lucky it isn’t making any sounds to alert the intruder.</p><p>Hanzo approaches the couch. The room is L shaped with the offending couch right at the bend, as soon as he rounds that corner he cannot not see. Jesse can only watch in horror. The world is spinning in slow motion and the thought that echoes the loudest in his skull is ‘<em>Ana is going to kill me if he sees</em>’.</p><p>He goes with the first plan his dumb brain supplies and slams his hand into the wall next to Hanzo, leans so he’s conveniently blocking his view. He has three milliseconds while Hanzo turns to will his face into a flirtatious smirk, head tilted, and one eyebrow raised in cocky flirting.</p><p>”Well, ain’t you prettier than a new set of snow tires.”</p><p>It’s honestly horrible and he’s pretty sure he’s stolen the line from <em>somewhere</em> – probably Gabe being purposefully over the top sappy to bait sympathy kisses out of Jack.</p><p>Hanzo looks up at him, gives him a slow look over, but leans good naturedly against the wall. He smiles like what he really means to do is mumble ‘<em>here we go again</em>’. But at least he isn’t paying attention to whatever Fareeha is doing.</p><p>Jesse lets himself shift, just a little, strains with enhanced hearing after movement behind him. The muffled ruffle of fabric, probably the couch, Fareeha’s heavy breathing and a low, distinctly otherworldly writhing.</p><p>”I have no idea what that means,” Hanzo deadpans. He crosses his arms over his chest, tips his head up just a tad. It’s a confronting gesture, Hanzo’s eyes dark and awaiting the response. Jesse is pretty sure it’s his own hopeful mind, still caught up in the euphoria of <em>pretty man close</em> that sees just a hint of playfulness sparkling in his gaze.</p><p>“I don’t mean nothing by it, only that you’re looking mighty fine.”</p><p>Hanzo snorts, tips his head to the side. Jesse wants to bang his head against the wall, but that would mean crouching into Hanzo’s personal space even more and right now he’d rather die than do that.</p><p>This is inappropriate, this is so wildly inappropriate. It would be miles out of line to do this to anyone, but Jesse has pretty much just confirmed that this man is straight and in a relationship and also Mei’s coworker and <em>also</em> not aware of the supernatural and people generally don’t want strangers to hit on them at noon on a Sunday right after you’ve had deeply uncomfortable eye contact.</p><p>Jesus fucking Christ, what did he even want this move to accomplish? He expects Hanzo to plant a hand roughly on his chest and push him away with a disgusted sneer any minute now, then proceed past the corner and get the – second – surprise of his life, a lot less explainable this time.</p><p>His thoughts are violently cut off when Hanzo makes a short sound that sounds suspiciously like a muffled little snort of laughter. Jesse focusses back in on his face just as his brows arch up, a lock escaped from his ponytail falls to the side when he tilts his head.</p><p>“And this seemed like the best way to let me know that?”</p><p>Shit.</p><p>“Honey, don’t you have people swarming you to tell it to you all the time? Had to make this one memorable,” he grins, moves so he isn’t crowding quite as much into Hanzo’s space, but still very much blocking his view of the <em>aerico</em>.</p><p>“Wouldn’t exactly say all the time,” he leans nonchalantly against the wall, a sharp canine showing when he grins, predatory and lopsided. Jesse has the distinct feeling he’s being played, that Hanzo is in full control of this situation, but he isn’t sure what it means.</p><p>“Then it’s a good thing I’m here to remind you sugar,” Hanzo blows air through his nose, clearly unimpressed, but hasn’t left in disgust yet. That’s a success, right? At least it spurs him on.</p><p>“Can’t go around looking like a trophy stallion on summer grass and expect me to not tell you,“ Jesse grins, trying his damnest to be playfully charming instead of just vaguely gross.</p><p>Hanzo winces, “such unsophisticated style,” he huffs, voice going low and gravelly. The dark jacket shift over his arms as he puffs his chest, head held high and proud. Jesse is unsure if it’s a challenge or a threat.</p><p>Behind him, there’s the flare of something magical. A burst of energy and a muffled shout from Fareeha. He feels it zing through his flesh, the sharp smell of the hyssop spiking in the air.</p><p>It must be powerful enough that even Hanzo senses it, at least his piercing gaze falters and his lips glide apart in surprise when he tries to look over Jesses shoulder. Panic gets it’s icy claws into Jesses stomach. He awaits the awestruck shock flooding over Hanzo’s features, he awaits a faint, violence, anything.</p><p>Instead, it’s himself who gets one hell of a surprise when Fareeha unannounced close a strong hand around his bicep and <em>pulls</em>. He just about manages to suppress a yelp, arch both eyebrows at her. Her hair is windswept, there’s faint green stains on her hands and her eyeliner is smudged beneath one eye.</p><p>“I got it!” she chirps, voice much higher and friendlier than usual, “I’m ready to leave, thank you for waiting.”</p><p>Her fist clench on his arm, <em>play along or I banish you next</em>.</p><p>“No problem,” he smiles, pulls back from Hanzo. Hanzo looks confused at both of them, a glint in his eye like he wants to ask.</p><p>“Was just waiting for the lady. I’ll be seeing you?” he tips his hat at Hanzo, get’s a slight grin and an eyeroll in return.</p><p>“Sure,” he presses by them with a casual roll of his shoulder. When he passes by where the <em>aerico</em> was, he doesn’t even spare the couch a glance.</p><p>Fareeha tightens her hand on his arm even more and he finally kicks into motion, they leave in a hurry, spilling out onto the pavement, turning to face one another – both with wide, surprised eyes.</p><p>“You’re going to tell me every embarrassing thing you said,” she deadpans.</p><p>“I’m very proud of you too.”</p><p>----</p><p>“I’m going to die,” he’s making wild gestures with his hands as he lays on his back on the couch. Fareeha is incapacitated by laughter on the floor as he retells the story.</p><p>“You’re not going to die,” Jack grumbles, carding a hand through the fur on Reaps head. Ana leans her elbows on the chair he’s sitting in, chin in one hand. She’s looking entirely too bemused at the entire thing.</p><p>“You could easily have been much worse,” Jack continues, making Jesse reach for a pillow to groan into.</p><p>He points an accusatory finger at Jack, “watch it old man.”</p><p>Ana <em>tsk</em>’s, a barely suppressed and criminally smug smirk already apparent in her tone, “so, when can we expect loverboy over for dinner?” Fareeha snickers and Jesse groans with renewed vigor, “you think he’d like my pomegranate salad?”</p><p>“Want me to get Mei to set you up?” Fareeha pipes in, overly cheery, he glares at her from under the pillow.</p><p>“Once y’all do something dumb I’m gonna be ruthless, watch it.”</p><p>Fareeha and Jack hum an agreeing <em>mhm</em> in almost perfect sync. Ana opts for a more disbelieving huff of air.</p><p>“You’re here for me, ain’t that right girl?” he coos at Reap. She perks up at the tone, looks at him with her big, dark eyes. He’s once again convinced she nods imperceptibly at him, but she doesn’t get up from where Jack is petting at her neck.</p><p>He’s about to go back to wallowing in his own misery when the entire scene is interrupted by the bright chime of the doorbell. He sits up instantly, on alert and straining to hear. Around him, his family is making similar moves.</p><p>Ana mouths ‘<em>who?</em>’ into the sudden silence.</p><p>They each shake their heads, one after the other, none of them were expecting company.</p><p>They do admittedly have a whole heap of associates in the city – both human and distinctly not human – but everyone knows not to come by unannounced. Then again, demons probably wouldn’t use the doorbell.</p><p>Jack is the first to get up, slow and considerate. They all follow him quietly, standing a little behind. It’s coming from what’s technically the front door, but has been demoted to back door by them choosing to go through The Dandelion more often than not.</p><p>Jesse grabs Reap by the scruff of her neck. She’s silent and relaxed, which makes him less tense in turn. She would probably have sensed if anything terrible was lurking out in the quiet evening.</p><p>Jack opens the door and all of them must look equally surprised, Jack at the door and the rest lingering a few steps behind him. If she’s affected by their reaction it doesn’t show.</p><p>She’s as casual as ever, wearing a white beanie with knitted bunny ears dropping down the sides, a jacket in a so garish pink it almost seems to glow in the soft dusk.</p><p>Hana Song herself.</p><p>“Hiya,” she closes her phone, holds up a lax peace sign. The sound of her bubblegum popping is loud in the quiet, “what does it mean to be tied to a beast?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so, so much for reading! I'm so excited to finally have Satya in a scene, she's so much fun to write!</p><p>I also hope you like this Hanzo? I know he's a lot ... sillier? than most portrayals of him - many of them are generally softer than canon/much of fandom depictions. It turns out I'm just incredibly, incredibly soft inside and it shows in how I write characters :P</p><p>I also apologize for any secondhand embarrassment. I personally hate it, so i tried to write this scene to be more fun and light and a little dumb rather than 'i want to eat my own face'-cringy in the purest sense of the word. </p><p>Yeah!! Think thats enough ramblings from me, thank you for reading - find me on tumblr if you want to chat!</p><p>And as always, please consider commenting if you enjoy my self indulgent yelling! Comments fuel me and just honestly make me very happy :p</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There's A Teenager In Our Midst And She's Dressed Better Than All Of Us Combined</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so, so much for your patience with this chapter. I hope it's worth the wait</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack looks almost impressively thoughtful. Ana has finished her military grade interrogation, now it’s him sitting across from Hana on the couch, studying her with slow consideration.</p><p>The teacup was placed absentmindedly in front of her by Fareeha. It has spent all its time steaming uselessly into the night air while Hana wills herself to sit still. She looks almost defiant, adamant in her story of some sort of shadow creature visiting her late last night.</p><p>“A beast?” Jack grumbles at last.</p><p>She nods enthusiastically, her hands tighten in her lap.</p><p>“A beast yes, ‘<em>tied to a beast’</em> she said,” she rolls her eyes slightly, clearly not pleased with having to repeat herself again.</p><p>If Jack notices the tone, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he looks up at Ana, worry painted over his face. She looks indecisive, looking down at Hana without really seeing her.</p><p>Fareeha sits on the floor besides her, thoughtful but clearly impatient as well. Her nails click against the floorboards as she sends little glances up at Hana every now and then.</p><p>“Do we know this Sombra?” Jesse supplies at last, he leans on the back of the chair Jack is slumped in. All four of them turn towards him. Jack and Ana share a lightning quick glance.</p><p>“No,” Ana drawls, “I’m not sure what kind of creature we’re dealing with.” Jack hums low in agreement.</p><p>“But what about the beast?” Hana insists, her voice high and cheeks slightly red. All the unhurried indifference she showed up with has slowly withered as they fail to answer her.</p><p>She looks tiny and very much unfamiliar beneath the myriad of framed pictures covering the wall above the sofa, snapshots from the life of the weird mishmash of monsters and misfits who in some way call The Dandelion home:</p><p>Ana, young and still raven haired cradling a baby Fareeha, Fareeha herself beaming on her graduation day with Jack’s pelt wrapped around her shoulders, Jesse with sunburnt shoulders and summer freckles grinning at the camera, Jack, Gabe and Ana standing proudly outside a newly opened Dandelion. Gérard dozing off on the couch with a newspaper in hand and his feet in Gabe’s lab, Mei accidentally hurling a snowball directly at the camera with pure terror painted on her face, Lúcio in the studio, tongue poking out in concentration, Angela and Genji with matching dyed hair. A New Year’s Eve celebration with all of them dressed up and smiling, Reinhardt pulling all of them into a bear hug and their greatly varied reactions. Even Amélie finds her way into a couple of group photos, tall and stately in the background. Lena, sobbing joyfully in her wedding dress with her arms slung around the neck of an equally teary Emily (Jesse can be seen, slightly blurry, in the background, crying possibly more than either bride), Jack, back when he had only just started to go grey, crowned in nasturtium and oak leaves while a grinning Gabe presses a kiss into his cheek.</p><p>Right below it hangs a picture taken moments later, slightly out of focus as Reap inserts herself into the scene, enthusiastically slobbering Jack’s other cheek so the crown slips down over his eyes. It has always been Jesse’s favorite.</p><p>It’s so painfully theirs, so obviously domestic. Full of flowers and laughter, painted in greens and earth tones, red and orange and the specific shade of royal blue Jesse secretly calls ‘Jack-blue’ in his mind.</p><p>It clashes horribly with Hana in all her fluorescent pink and stark, bright white.</p><p>Ana sighs.</p><p>“Hana,” she squads down next to the coffee table, extends a hand towards Hana, “there’s a lot of things out there that most people don’t realize. So much that even people who study it for all their lives don’t know all of it,” her eyes crinkle up in a kind smile, it makes Hana’s shoulders loose some of the tension, “it’s new and big and scary, but we’ll do our best to help you out. Ask and we will try to answer, though we may not always know exactly what’s going on, okay?”</p><p>Hana looks at her for a long beat, then nods, her lips twitching in thought.</p><p>“I really just want to know about what a beast is?” she smiles, slightly sheepish, then finally grabs the teacup and starts running her fingertips over its rough surface.</p><p>“A beast,” Ana murmurs, crosses her legs and settles down.</p><p>“It’s like an animal, often a cow. A big, brawly, ugly on most likely,” Jesse grins into the quiet, making both Fareeha and Jack groan. Hana, however, cracks a lopsided smile.</p><p>“Oh, so like you?” she shoots, sharp and quick-witted.</p><p>Ana sputters, but it’s Fareeha who clambers to make the explanation; “actually yeah.”</p><p>Hana’s face drops in surprise, she looks like she’s about to apologize for turning this into a ‘bully Jesse’-session, when Fareeha continues:</p><p>“A beast, when people like us talk about them, refers to a being who originated or descents from <em>The Realm of Beasts</em>,” Hana’s face is neutral, shocked or processing. Fareeha hums as she decides how to proceed, but Jesse supplies a more down to earth explanation before she can launch into a scientific presentation of The Realms.</p><p>“It’s like a different dimension, like a place outside of time and space. And that’s where monsters come from,” he shrugs when Ana scoffs at the rudimentary explanation. But Hana seems to get it.</p><p>“So like, werewolves, like you?” she looks at him with big, inquisitive eyes.</p><p><em>Either a lucky guess or some seriously impressive reasoning</em>.</p><p>He wonders what else she has managed to puzzle together.</p><p>“Yeah,” he sighs softly, “werewolves, like me.”</p><p>“Cool! Then what sort of beast am I tied to?” her hands flutter in her lap like she wants to do an honest to god little excited applause. She stills her excitement for a moment, puts on exaggerated concern, “and … what does it mean?”</p><p>She’s starring up at Jesse, he’s apparently appointed master of all things beast related. He winces, eyes flickering to Jack and Ana.</p><p>It’s Jack who takes pity on him first. Hana’s head snap to him when he speaks.</p><p>“We don’t really know kid, it’s unusual for beings from different realms to interact, much less be,” he pause like he’s unsure how to phrase it, “tied together,” he finishes lamely, hands rising subconsciously to make a vague binding motion in the air.</p><p>The initial disappointment on her face melts away when her brows knit in confusion, “but you’re here?”</p><p>She looks up at Jesse, “why are you here if stuff from over there don’t interact with stuff over here?”</p><p>“I ain’t from over there,” he grins, and her face falls slightly. She’s known about the existence of alternative dimensions for all of two minutes and she’s already shaken when it doesn’t work exactly like she had figured.</p><p>Fareeha supplies the explanation, “Jesse was turned, he isn’t a true beast, he’s never set foot in The Realm of Beasts.”</p><p>“Come on, don’t you know your werewolf lore?” Jesse teases.</p><p>She scoffs, “okay then, but something had to come through for you to end up like that.”</p><p>He hums agreeing, nods slightly as if to say <em>‘you got me there’</em>.</p><p>“<em>Things</em> do come through,” Jack explains, tone sharp and teasing at their word choice. Jack is the only one of them who has ever resident outside this realm. “It isn’t that uncommon for beings to travel between realms. What’s unusual is the implication of a bond.”</p><p>Hana’s jaw tense when he studies her, stark blue eyes scanning intensely until Ana jabs him in the ribs with an elbow to snap him out of it.</p><p>“There is no reason to be afraid,” she assures. The <em>not yet</em> hangs heavy in the air. Hana’s fingers are tense around the teacup, eyes locked on the coffee table without really taking in any of the lines in the wood.</p><p>It’s Reap who breaks the tension by getting up and unceremoniously crawling onto the couch to put her giant head into Hana’s lap.</p><p>Hana looks stunned, bordering between awe and utter horror.</p><p>“She likes you,” Jesse drawls with a smile. Hana’s face morphs into childlike glee.</p><p>“She does?” her eyes are like dinnerplates, voice breathy at the idea.</p><p>“Yes, I think so too,” Fareeha encourages, rolls her hand as a <em>go on</em> that makes Hana start to softly card her fingers through Reaps rough fur. The dog is silent as always, but she does press her face into Hana’s stomach, ears going lax and soft under the petting.</p><p>Ana is smiling at the entire scene, but Jesse doesn’t miss the worry creeping into the lines by her eyes. Now that Hana is fully distracted by the dog, he has time to study Ana and Jack, the minute glances they share and how both of them seem subtly wary of the situation. Something cold and uneasy sits behind the lowest of his ribs, swirls around undefined and uncomfortable.</p><p>Ana gets up with a low sigh.</p><p>“Hana, I think you should stay for dinner so we can explain, but please call your parents first.”</p><p>----</p><p>It’s bordering on weird to all be seated around the – terribly small – dinner table. They all know Ana’s preference for sitting on the floor and Jesse has seen Jack sit properly on a chair, back straight and both feet on the ground, maybe twice in his life.</p><p>It isn’t exactly relaxed, but it could be a lot worse too. Jesse’s pretty sure Hana told her dad some sort of flimsy lie about being at a friend’s place, but no one comments on it – not even Jack, who is otherwise quick to put on his ‘Stern Dad Raising You To Be A Respectable Youth’-persona.</p><p>They eat in silence, Fareeha’s foot smashes into Jesse’s shin enough times for it to feel intentional. Hana is starring down at her food with unwavering intensity, her fingers drumming against the handle of her fork, clearly in deep thought. None of them press her or interrupt her, though it hangs heavy in the air how they expect a sudden flurry of questions.</p><p>When she finally looks up, brows knitted slightly and opens her mouth all of them still and look up at her expectantly.</p><p>She clearly had not expected them all to be staring at her with big, inquisitive eyes. The silence hangs weirdly over the table.</p><p>It’s Jack who breaks first, snorting out a rough bought of laughter. The rest follow instantly. It’s so dumb, the way they sit here tensely anticipating a strange child collecting the courage to ask about magic of all things. The whole situation is so absurd Jesse can only stop laughing when his stomach hurts from it and he has tears welling up in his eyes.</p><p>“Sorry,” Ana waves at Hana through delighted puffs of laughter, “sorry, what were you going to ask?”</p><p>They all settle again, noticeably more relaxed. Hana’s cheeks are dusted slightly red, her ears as well, but she smiles with real warmth anyway.</p><p>“Just,” she shrugs slightly, “all of it,” she tapers off, does a slight rolling motion with her hand, “it’s a lot.”</p><p>She’s silent for a beat, her eyes going a little glassy in thought, then her head flicks up again, a bright smile over her features, “but it’s also <em>so cool</em>!”</p><p>Her hands jump, like she can’t contain all the restless energy within. Jesse looks at her, she’s charming and good but also so, so young. A cold, sinking feeling worms its way into his chest. She can’t be more than two years older than he was when he first got thrown into all this.</p><p>Was he this bright-eyed, this awed by powers he had no way of understanding, this willing to jump headfirst into a world so capable of destroying him? A world that has done its best to destroy him and damn near succeeded.</p><p>His eyes flicker to Fareeha. She’s smiling, but her fingertips are drumming restlessly against the tabletop.</p><p>Ana blows air through her nose, features soft. “It is, isn’t it?”</p><p>Hana nods enthusiastically and starts wolfing down her food, clearly not catching the <em>but</em> hanging off the words.</p><p>It’s Jack who makes it obvious; “It sounds … cool,” the word comes to him unwillingly, makes him sound like a burned out uncle desperate to connect with his hip young niece, “but it’s not always safe, there’s a lot of dangerous things out there. It isn’t some game.”</p><p>Hana’s eyes flicker lightning quick to Jesse, then she puffs her chest and smiles cockily. “No problem!”</p><p>Fareeha snorts, shakes her head slightly, but doesn’t comment. Jesse is just about to launch into a long speak about how werewolves are actually very different from what people think. Ana cuts him off.</p><p>She pushes her plate aside to lean her forearms on the table, lean towards Hana. The fine lines by her eye get deeper when she smiles softly.</p><p>“We’re here to help Hana, and if you want it I’ll teach you everything I know,” Hana is practically already nodding, “but,” Ana holds up a hand, “getting involved is not without danger. These things, many of them are drawn to power. We don’t know what this bond means, but as a rule of thumb, the more you know, the more you <em>learn</em>-“</p><p>“The more things might want to hurt me,” her eyes are steel when she finishes. Ana nods slowly.</p><p>“Yeah,” she breathes.</p><p>“Then why would I choose this?” she asks at last.</p><p>Jesse scoffs a short laugh, “because it’s kind of cool?” she looks up at him, her expression flashing through genuine confusion before it clicks that it’s a joke and she beams a toothy grin.</p><p>He tilts his head to the side, “and, if you know what’s going on, you aint so helpless if things come for you. You’re already weird, because you can see things. It might be safer,” he pauses, winces slightly, “big emphasis on <em>might</em>.”</p><p>Her smirk falls slowly, her eyes narrowing.</p><p>“Most of us don’t get to make this choice,” it’s Ana who cuts in, “think about it first.”</p><p>Fareeha’s hands close into fists, her eyes flutter up to meet Jesse’s. He nods slowly, pretty sure his own mouth is drawn into a tight, apologetic line like hers.</p><p>Hana looks thoughtful, then nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”</p><p>Ana grabs a napkin, scribbles her phone number out quickly, then remembers about her thrashed phone, cross it out and writes out Jack’s instead.</p><p>“Call us when you decide, or if anything new happens. Take as long as you need.”</p><p>Hana stuffs the number into a fluorescent pink pocket and they return to eating. Hana joins effortlessly in the sparse conversation, jokes at Jesse and politely compliments Anas cooking.</p><p>It’s almost painful how easily she slots into it all, how quickly she goes from looking confused to looking like it’s the most natural thing in the world when the conversation lands on Angela and the job she plans on undertaking this week.</p><p>The scar around his left bicep itches, a grim reminder of the forces at work here. The memory of twin pain, sharp and blood red, pulses through him: The searing, starburst of agony as it’s torn off by a <em>beast, </em>the deep, squelching ache as it’s reattached through the workings of the same magic Hana frivolously wants access to.</p><p>Hana’s big, dark eyes drink it all in and Jesse already knows she’s going to say yes.</p><p>----</p><p>They don’t have time to worry about Hana for the next couple of days. She doesn’t call either Monday or Tuesday, and by Wednesday the full moon has crept so close Jesse stops paying attention to what phone calls Ana does and does not receive.</p><p>Everything kind of turns into a blur in the days just before the moon. He once did the math; over the years he’s went through the change nearly two hundred times. And yet it’s still heady. Still foreign how <em>something</em> grey and wild and strong bubbles up to simmer just below his skin.</p><p>He stops going on jobs three days before the night of the change. Fareeha is called out to a restless spirit near the edge of town and takes Reinhardt with her instead. He laughs and rolls his strong shoulders just like he always does when he’s called in to play substitute – jokes and acts like he’s a burned-out veteran returning for one last fight.</p><p>Jesse then has the unenviable task of taking extra shifts at The Dandelion and using entirely too much time in cramped trains and busses to commute back and forth to Angela so she can make sure everything is ready.</p><p>The only bright spot is that he gets to spend more time with Lúcio. Technically, only one person is needed to have the shop open but following a couple of instances of less than savory spirits showing up, they make sure to always be two when possible.</p><p>The shop is far from busy, a few customers come and go. They use the first gaps between customers on arranging everything and making the backroom neat, then there’s plenty of time to just talk.</p><p>“I hate everything,” Lúcio sighs dramatically and slings himself over the counter as soon as the last customer leaves.</p><p>“Ain’t like you,” Jesse grins, entirely prepared for the speech he’s about to receive.</p><p>“He’s just so <em>pretty</em>,” he groans into the rough countertop. Jesse shrugs, hums a low, noncommittal <em>if you say so</em> and starts arranging the boxes of seeds neatly on their shelf.</p><p>Lúcio clearly isn’t satisfied, he rolls onto his back on the counter and groans into his hands.</p><p>“I went over there last night, wanted Angie’s opinion on a healing spell I’m working on. Jesse, how has he got any business looking like that?”</p><p>“You do know there’s no reason for you to pine like this, right?”</p><p>“They’re practically married, Jesse!”</p><p>Jesse turns, leans against the seed shelf to look properly at Lúcio, one eyebrow raised, and head tilted to the side, “you do know they’re really not, right?”</p><p>Lúcio looks at him for a long moment, then lets his head fall back to bang against the counter, “they <em>are</em>! And they’re so disgustingly cute together too.”</p><p>Jesse leans with his hip against the wall, takes in what is probably the tenth Genji related meltdown he’s watched Lúcio experience over the last four months.</p><p>“I promise you, they’re not dating.” At least Jesse’s pretty sure Genji and Angela aren’t in a relationship. He can easily see how it might look like it, but he also trusts Genji to have told him and he knows a heartbroken Fareeha would be slung over the counter besides Lúcio if they were. How Lúcio has gotten the idea so firmly into his head he can’t even think to just <em>ask</em> is beyond Jesse, but he isn’t about to start going between the two with questions and explanations like a glorified messenger dog.</p><p>If Lúcio wants to get himself a hot, only slightly undead boyfriend, he can damn well go sort out the details himself. Jesse’s only here to enjoy the drama of it all.</p><p>Lúcio still looks skeptical. He sits up on the counter, eyes the door to make sure no one is coming in. His shoulders deflate.</p><p>“It just sucks is all,” he runs a hand through his hair. The glamour on his bracelet shine in the light, “he’s so sweet and pretty and god damn it Jesse, his fucking-“</p><p>“Don’t finish that sentence,” Jesse cuts in with a smirk.</p><p>Lúcio looks up at him with a glare so incredibly done it’s almost impressive. “Very funny.”</p><p>Jesse nods like it’s a genuine compliment, then lets his features soften. He does a slight rolling motion with one hand, urging Lúcio to continue.</p><p>“I just don’t get why I’m this … intimidated you know? I feel like I’m pretty cool usually,” Jesse snorts, but Lúcio ignores him and carries on, “but then! One nice boy looks at me and <em>poof</em> goes all my carefully maintained braincells!”</p><p>He throws his hands out, groans exasperated.</p><p>“Boy is a little weak for him aint it?”</p><p>“Terrifying demon beast then! Point is, he has pretty eyes and he makes me kind of hate myself.”</p><p>Jesse huffs, watches Lúcio jump down from the counter and start rifling through something on the other side of it. He groans deeply, the self-pity practically radiating from him.</p><p>“And you can’t just work some nix magic on him because?”</p><p>Lúcio looks up, disapproving clearly scribbled all over his face.</p><p>“It doesn’t work on undead beings,” he goes back to fixing stuff where Jesse can’t see, then he remembers something and pops his head over the counter once again, “<em>and</em>, it’s clearly immoral.”</p><p>Jesse snorts, “sure, whatever you say.”</p><p>Lúcio straightens up fully, leans over the counter towards Jesse, eyes a little calculating “and, you do know my magic is about infatuation, right? Sitting in a pond somewhere being pretty, luring men to their deaths, all that good stuff. I can’t,” he falters, dark cheeks slowly coloring in slightly red, “I couldn’t make anyone fall in love, I think?”</p><p>The grin that spreads over Jesse’s face is downright wolfish and it isn’t solely because of the proximity of the full moon.</p><p>“Wow Lú, you sure do sound like someone who thinks it’s <em>deeply immoral</em> to use magic to get the guy.”</p><p>Lúcio winces, shakes his head slightly, then shrugs.</p><p>“I’ve simply contemplated the difference between love and infatuation in depth. A real philosopher am I.”</p><p>Jesse blows air through his nose, is just about to make some jab about ‘you could use that to make him fall in love’ when Lúcio’s eyes grow sharp and playful and the words wither on his tongue.</p><p>
  <em>Oh no.</em>
</p><p>“Speaking of,” Lúcio drawls, leaning on his elbows like a playful predator ready to pounce, and Jesse instantly knows that someone in his family is a goddamn snitch whom he shall not miss if they happen to mysteriously be eaten by some sort of moon beast in about three days’ time.</p><p>Lúcio continues undeterred, “who’s this boy I’ve heard about?”</p><p>He says it like it’s the sleaziest, most scandalous piece of gossip he’s ever heard.</p><p>Jesse raises one eyebrow.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Aw come on Jesse, tell me about this dark eyed prince of yours!” he almost bounces in place, expression surging from teasing to curious in the blink of an eye.</p><p>There’s heat rising in Jesse’s cheeks and he has to fight it to not start blushing right there and then in front of Lúcio. It isn’t even the mention of Hanzo himself, more the bone deep embarrassment that seeps through the entire memory.</p><p>“Jesse,” he drawls, “come on, I need it for a song. Fuel my creative impulses, come on.”</p><p>“No, you don’t. And also; you saw him,” Jesse answers dismissively and immediately knows it’s the wrong move when Lúcio’s eyes lighten up.</p><p>“Oh?” bright and inquisitive, then, “oh!”</p><p>His face is alight with honest to god glee, “of course! Though, isn’t it a little scandalous, he doesn’t even know about all this magic stuff?” he wiggles one eyebrow. His smile is broad and bright.</p><p>“Don’t you have a song to write?”</p><p>“I’m at work, Jesse McCree, I’m not going to indulge in my hobby <em>at work</em>.”</p><p>He laughs when Jesse’s face scrunches in defeat, “I’m sure you’ll be very happy together, though you might want to consider a more romantic creature than an <em>aerico</em> next time.”</p><p>“I’m going to go upstairs and fester until I become a wolf.”</p><p>----</p><p>The week starts to feel like a blur on Tuesday. Everything is messy, nothing is going right. Calculations turn out to be off, half the office is down with some stomach-bug and every shitty client in existence has apparently decided this is the week to call in on. Hanzo spends a full hour and a half getting chewed out for something that is decidedly not his fault by a client who refuses to listen and keeps purposefully mispronouncing his name.</p><p>He’s about ready to pack his stuff up for the second time in his life and go somewhere he can lay down – preferably with his face into something soft – and then just scream for a couple days. Currently, he’s leaning towards Scottish highland and a nice patch of moss to disappear into.</p><p>The only thing holding him back is that there probably isn’t a lot of Scottish marshes with electrical plugs to plug the fish’s pump and light into and he hasn’t done adequate research into mile long extension cords.</p><p>It intrigues him to no end that Satya seems unbothered by it all.</p><p>He blows air through his nose like an irritable dragon over lunch. She looks up from her sketchbook to look directly at him. Her head is tiled slightly and she’s using the cool glare that clearly lets him know he better tell it to her straight or stop silently complaining.</p><p>He huffs, stares back at her. Tired and prickly enough to take her up on the challenge.</p><p>He expects her to close the book with a short snap and confront him, tell him – in as short and precise terms as possible – to knock it off before going back to reading.</p><p>She doesn’t.</p><p>Instead she looks at him for a second, then huffs out a soft little smile and goes back to sorting some calculation on her phone and scribbling down the result with a slight shake of her head.</p><p>It’s so unusual for her it pulls him out of the cloud of misery he’s been sitting under.</p><p>“In a good mood?”</p><p>She looks up, movements calculated and graceful as always.</p><p>“Everything is as it should be,” her eyes are dark and unreadable. Black and calm. It’s only the soft smile clinging – barely there – to her features that tips him off.</p><p>“And as they’ve always been?” he leans back, takes in her relaxed body language.</p><p>“When you consider the big picture, yes. Things are as they’ve always been.”</p><p>She goes back to reading. He looks at her for a long moment. She’s lying. He knows she is. Has known her for far too long to not think her foregoing an excuse to correct or berate him strange.</p><p>There’s a looseness to her. No absentminded smile on her lips, no giddy humming, nothing of the sort. But there is something.</p><p>Satya is happier than she has been in months and he knows it.</p><p>“What?” her eyes are still glued to where she’s working out some complex equation.</p><p>“The small picture?” he pokes, voice neutral.</p><p>“What?” she looks up, her eyebrows slightly knitted together. He’s unsure if it’s genuine confusion or faked irritation.</p><p>“When you consider the small picture, has things changed then?” he leans slightly towards her, eagerly paying attention to every little piece of her body language.</p><p>“That’s not a thing, you can’t say that,” she taps the end of her pencil against the page.</p><p>“You know what I mean.”</p><p>“And yet, things must be orderly.”</p><p>“Answer the question.”</p><p>Her nose scrunches up almost imperceptibly.</p><p>“If you must know,” he hums slightly as a yes. She fixes him with a level glance, “yes, since your little,” she twirls the pencil as she searches for the right word, “incident … with Ms. Zhou I’ve taken to spending more time with her.”</p><p>She goes back to scribbling as his eyebrows lift. If he were a much more expressive man he might have whistled.</p><p>Satya is notorious in the office for being private – bordering on antisocial – and so coolly professional it borders on slightly rude. She pretty much only talks to Hanzo in a way that could be called friendly.</p><p>“How did she win you over?”</p><p>“You’re just my work friend, stop digging in my private affairs,” there’s no heat except for the blush climbing up her neck.</p><p>“And you have a lot of other kinds of friends, who’re allowed to dig?” the only reason it isn’t terribly mean is because he’s in pretty much the same situation.</p><p>She scoffs slightly, then closes the notebook with calculated, precise movements and looks directly at him.</p><p>“As you very precisely point out, I do not have a lot of <em>friends</em>,” she says the word like it’s something foul in her mouth, “I will need somebody to discuss you and your … escapades with.”</p><p>Her eyes sparkle with a subtle mischief. He rolls his eyes the slightest amount. Secretly he finds it nice to see her branch out. God knows they probably both need a sturdier support net than each other and a fish.</p><p>He studies her thoughtfully as she goes back to her notes. She’s talking to him, mumbling soft little statements about what she’s working on. He learned long ago it isn’t actually an invitation to small talk, pretty far from it, she’s just mulling over ideas out loud.</p><p>When he finds himself feeling happy and relieved to his core at her happiness – however small and masterly concealed – he distantly wonders if he’s gone soft.</p><p>----</p><p>“Is this all right?”</p><p>Angela is looking at him with her doctor eyes. All stern calculating and rapt attention. He feels a little like he suspects slabs of meat feel before the butcher starts cutting; a sterile and professional act, but still not without blood.</p><p>He flexes his arms to test the bonds. They’re not tight, not on his still only half shifted arms even with the muscle vibrating slightly and the hair growing steadily into fur.</p><p>“I think it’ll be fine.”</p><p>The ghost of what he’ll become looms, both foreign and known in its entirety, around him. Like a cocoon, a silhouette of himself he knows so well even if he doesn’t occupy it most of the time. He feels the bonds tight around the skin he knows he’ll grow into.</p><p>Angela nods, fixes the restraints to the wall properly. Her mouth is a firm, concentrated line as she turns around and starts working out the dosage of the sedative.</p><p>Genji is her direct opposite.  He leans with his hip against a chair and regards Jesse with cool, dark eyes. He isn’t taking full human form, but Jesse just knows the bastard is smirking.</p><p>“What’s the time, Shimada?” his voice sounds strained and morphed around the teeth, growing in ragged and razor sharp. He must look terrifying already. Shaggy where his body hair strains and struggles to grow into fur. Jaw cracked to the side to accommodate the fangs curving downwards, fingers growing steadily into claws, bones snapping and creaking as they <em>change</em>.</p><p>It’s a good thing his mind wont slip until midnight when they’ll hopefully be out from the cramped saferoom.</p><p>Genji solidifies a tad to look at his wristwatch. The metallic smoke curling around him and making up his shape wavers and flows, clicks into place like tectonic plates.</p><p>“An hour and a half to go,” his head tip to the side, “don’t destroy anything would you?” He smiles, surprisingly soft.</p><p>Jesse’s responding chuckle is low and dry. This time is the worst. When the moon is coating everything in a soft, distant glow. The energy sings so brightly just beneath his skin, ready to burst through at the faintest trace of magic. His mind is sharp, but it calls with such conviction.</p><p>Once the moon stares down from its highest point he’ll be gone, the instinct will take over and color his vision in dull grey and red – wipe his memory of anything but scattered, dull vignettes.</p><p>“I’ll do my best.”</p><p>“Can’t ask for more. You need anything?” Genji’s feet are silent on the floor when he moves towards Jesse and absentmindedly starts tugging at the restraints to test the strength. He’s solid now, hands a fluid mix of silver and black shot through by glimmers of vibrant green magic – the spell Angela saved him with all those years ago still pulses potent through his veins.</p><p>“Nah,” Jesse tries relaxing, accompany the word with a nonchalant shrug. He fails, muscles spasming and twitchy under the growing light of the moon. If Genji notices, which Jesse is sure he must do, he doesn’t comment. It’s routine for both of them.</p><p>The room around them is sparse. Dull, grey walls and rounded corners. Above lies a quiet, distant part of town. Right where it tapers from suburban into something less populated than that. In name, Reinhardt owns it and he did help plant the heavy, sound absorbing bushes all around the premise, but in truth it isn’t used for much beside as a safe place for Jesse to go bestial.</p><p>Jack, Gabe, Ana and Reinhardt slaved for days to make the room as safe for him to shift in as possible. All sharp corners smoothed out, everything reinforced both by hand and magic.</p><p>In the minutes just before he tips over, when his senses are pried right open and laid bare, Jesse will be able to sense it. The slight, metallic sing of Gabriel’s magic. An echo of the endless protect and bind and conceal and soften spells he wrought into the concrete and wood. It tastes different to Ana’s magic on his tongue. Hers is the magic of the earth, of home and calm and something unmovable in the soil. Gabe’s magic always felt like lightning. The slight prickle up his spine still linger in the walls so many years later.</p><p>He hasn’t told anyone, but he’s pretty sure Jack at least feels it too on the rare occasions he visits.</p><p>“Okay Jess, you ready?”</p><p>His head snaps up. Angela is measuring him up with her cool blue eyes. He nods faintly.</p><p>“Hit me up, doc,” his grin is strained but full of teeth.</p><p>She shakes her head slightly, then presses the syringe to his forearm and pumps the sedative into him. He hasn’t bothered really paying attention when she’s told him exactly what it is she gives him, but he’s fairly sure it would be enough to knock a horse or two out cold.</p><p>Now, this close to the moon, he barely feels it. The hair on his neck stand on end at the cold press of the needle, but there’s no pain. The adrenaline is pumping white and hot through his system, stealing away all traces of discomfort.</p><p>Angela backs away, study his reaction intently. She breathes a sigh of relief when the effect kicks in as intended and he slumps, strained muscle finally giving out, though it still moves and changes of its own accord.</p><p>“We’ll go upstairs now, see you tomorrow.”</p><p>He nods sleepily, head rolling back onto the backrest of the chair. Instinctually he tries to lift a hand in a wave and gets caught in the – now much tighter – restraint on his forearm. He huffs and sits back.</p><p>“Take care Jesse, be a good dog,” Genji glides to the door, still smirking.</p><p>“Oh, fuck off Shimada,” he slurs as a response, but grins right back.</p><p>The door closes behind them with a soft click and then he’s alone in the soft dark, the only light falling through a small window high on one wall. The power sings in him, blood so full of whispers he can’t comprehend them all.</p><p>It swells and it swells, and he knows it all so well. How it grows and writhes and <em>becomes </em>within him until there’s nothing left. His vision shifts, nostrils flaring and mouth agape. The shine of the magic in the wall grows to be almost overwhelming.</p><p><em>I miss you, </em>he thinks.</p><p>And then the world is sound and smell and instinct.</p><p>----</p><p>Hana is regarding the phone number – just like she’s done daily all week – as the moon creeps over the horizon and the very air in her room gets staticky and vibrant.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Again, thank you for your continued support, it honestly means the world.<br/>I finally got to write Lúcio and Genji properly, some of my absolute favorite characters to write! I'm sorry if this feels like a little bit of a filler chapter, but I hope you can enjoy it either way</p><p>Again, I owe a huge thank you to @soundblade on tumblr for offering advice and council when I  get stuck on this fic</p><p>Please consider commenting if you enjoy my self indulgent yelling! Comments fuel me and just honestly make me very happy</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Beast Time, Baby</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again, thank you so much for your patience. This chapter took a while to write for some reason and was generally hard to shake out. I hope it's worth the wait!</p><p>I feel like I have to make a small warning here as well - at the end of this chapter, Jesse has something close to a panic attack. It isn't gratuitous in my opinion, but it is rather raw. He's okay, he's safe and if you want to skip it it probably wont take anything mayor away from the story. Remember to take care of yourself and stay safe &lt;3 </p><p>As always, thank you so much for reading</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He dreams his wolf dreams. They’re well-trodden and explored, the taste of hunger on his tongue, a feverish need to escape and run. The magic sings through them and his eyes glow in the dark. He dreams, half awake and far away from himself, dreams he knows on a level deeper than primal.</p><p>Dreams of blood, and soil and desperate claws over rough concrete.</p><p>Until there are dreams he does not recognize. Of being kissed so sweetly till both his jaw and his teeth ache. Of hands in his hair, strong and immovable but so loving when they grasp and <em>pull</em>. He dreams of hands on his hip and dark eyes glowing softly, teeth working over his ear and warm breath chuckled into his skin.</p><p>He dreams and he dreams and he dreams.</p><p>When he wakes up the dreams are faded, warped through the lens of the wolf.</p><p>He gets the usual half hour where his mind slowly and unwillingly trickles back and his body snaps and creaks into a mostly human form. He’ll still be a tad wolfish in the coming days while the moon is still close, but the worst is behind.</p><p>Angela strides into the room as soon as he’s safe to be around. He’s about to make the usual small talk when he notices her expression. Her mouth is a hard line and her eyes alight with cold fire.</p><p>“What?” he’s still a tad groggy but her attitude snaps him right out of it.</p><p>“Something happened, call Ana,” she unties his arm with trained movements. He rubs absentmindedly at where the restraint dug into his skin. His brows knit together.</p><p>“<em>What</em> happened, Angie?”</p><p>She releases him to rub her hands over her face. “I don’t know, I sent Genji over there around one,” she hands him a jug of something green and syrupy. He used to question the concoction, but he’s learned to just take it and drink, no matter how foul it is. The magic in it makes his skin crawl and his teeth strain, but he does feel a lot less fatigued.</p><p>She herself looks tired enough that he doesn’t press her on it. The worry sloshes in his chest like dark water as he changes out of his designated wolf clothes and goes upstairs.</p><p>It’s nearly as utilitarian upstairs as downstairs, though it doesn’t have the same military bunker feel. Angela looks up from where she’s sitting on one of the two beds pressed against one wall. Her face scrunches up again.</p><p>“I don’t know what’s going on, Jesse,” she waves him closer and hands him his phone.</p><p>The worry rises with terrifying speed from something liquid in his chest to something cloying in his throat. There’s <em>a lot</em> of missed calls from Jack. Even a couple from Fareeha. They know he changed tonight; they absolutely know he wouldn’t respond.</p><p>Angela must sense his confusion. “Me and Genji went for a walk when we’d seen you were okay. I think they tried getting a hold of me and panicked when I didn’t respond.”</p><p>“What the fuck is going on Angie?”</p><p>“Just call Ana and ask, Jesse!” She isn’t downright snapping at him, but it’s close. He steps back, takes her in. He’s ashamed it’s only now he realizes how exhausted she looks. Her ponytail is loose, the skin under her eyes is dark and there’s a distinct jitteriness to her movements that only really shows up when she relapses back into her latent coffee addiction.</p><p>She breathes out heavily and averts his eyes, looks like she’s about to apologize. He cuts her off.</p><p>“Sorry I’m a night shift on steroids,” he smiles softly. She blows air through her nose in a short little laugh. Her hand rise to wave him off.</p><p>“Please just find out what your weird family is doing, please? I need to tidy up the last things here and I’ll be right there.”</p><p>He nods slowly, steels himself.</p><p>“Oh and Jesse,” her voice is bright and light, soft in a way that cuts through him and make him breathe in. He whips his head around to look at her, “Genji has been there since two and he hasn’t called to say anything has gone terribly wrong. Don’t worry.”</p><p>He smiles and turns to do the door.</p><p>“I’ll try.”</p><p>----</p><p>He does worry. He worries his way through the early morning suburb. He worries so much he nearly forgets to be thankful when he just manages to catch the first early morning train heading back into town. He worries and has to swallow the feeling before it becomes something more, he cannot afford it spiraling into downright fear. He worries when Fareeha answers Jack’s phone on the first ring with a sharp “Amari speaking.”</p><p>“Where are you?”</p><p>If she’s surprised to hear him speaking it doesn’t show in her voice.</p><p>“Reinhardt’s.”</p><p>His brows furrow and he has to grip the rail to stay upright when the train shakes. “Why?”</p><p>She sighs and there’s the sound of voices, “just get here, hurry.”</p><p>He’s about to argue, but she breathes in sharply in a way he knows. Then she exhales softly, her voice has lost the biting edge when she speaks, “everything is fine Jesse. It’s weird and we want you here, but it’s not-“ her voice falters, “it’s not <em>bad</em>.”</p><p>He nods to himself, “okay.”</p><p>She sighs over the line, a breathy apology wavering over the quiet. “Knock when you’re there.”</p><p>She hangs up and he’s left with his hands flexing against the rail until the train stops with a loose clatter and he can semi run through the early morning. A couple joggers spots him and he must look distressed enough for them to start approaching with concern written all over their faces. He frantically waves them off and speeds up.</p><p>He spots Fareeha’s bike haphazardly thrown on the lawn. Jack’s van is parked further down the road too. He climbs the last steps with faster movements than he’s ever managed before. He knocks the signal into the dark wood – a series of quick, rhythmical beats to ensure they only let the right people into a potentially magical scene.</p><p>He’s barely gotten all of it when Fareeha rips the door open and hauls him inside. Her fingers are deft and nimble, scribbling symbols into his chest while she mutters out the words of the spells. He catches <em>conceal </em>and <em>contain</em> but not the rest.</p><p>“What?” he already sounds breathless. The weight of the spells gnaw against his chest, keeping the wolf sedated at the price of his general comfort. Their magic is concentrated inwards, not beaming outwards and making his skin vibrate with the need to <em>change</em>. It’s times like these he’s reminded how talented a witch Fareeha is, there’s not a lot of people who could press sigils into the shirt of a werewolf and not have them go nuclear.</p><p>Through the discomfort and the stunned awe, he’s suddenly very happy she contained him or he would probably be going full beast mode. Something inside the house is shining like a beacon of raw magic.</p><p>She sighs. She looks tired, but determined in a way that tells him she won’t recognize her own exhaustion until after all the action has passed.</p><p>“I think you better come see for yourself.”</p><p>She closes and locks the door behind them, rattling the handle to make sure it’s actually locked. There’s a sound of something clanking to the floor from the living room. Reinhardt says something and though the volume is – as always – booming, Jesse can’t catch the words through the walls.</p><p>They’re all here.</p><p>Ana sits on the floor, leaning back on her hands. Her eyes are calculating and she’s chewing on her lower lip. Reinhardt is gesturing wildly, grey t-shirt stretched to its limit over his broad chest. Genji is patiently letting him talk, arms crossed over his chest. Jack looks almost zoned out. His pelt is loosely tied around his waist, the dark spots in the seal-hide shine glossy in the light. It’s already starting to creep onto his skin, patches of smooth, grey fur sprouting along his neck. Jack only brings it out when he’s stressed or tired enough to need the comforting press of <em>home</em>, of his truer form, against his skin.</p><p>And then there’s Hana. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, eyes big and bright even if the skin beneath them is dark and hollow.</p><p>But none of them catch his attention beyond a quick acknowledgement of their presence. Far more alarming is what’s curled around the couch.</p><p>It’s massive. Massive and the magic is rising from it like smoke, potent enough to break through the spells Fareeha placed on him, pry his eyes open to the energy. The scales covering its body shine in the light, as does the horn sprouting from its brow. Its tail curl protectively around the couch as it looks him over with cool, dark eyes.</p><p>“Wha-“ he gestures.</p><p>“It’s a haetae,” Fareeha begins coolly from behind him.</p><p>“Yes, I can see that!” it comes out with more bite than he intended. His shoulders slump, “what is it doing here?”</p><p>Ana is already pinching the bridge of her nose, Jack is making the same movement and if everything wasn’t entirely too overwhelming to be dealing with at barely five a.m. Jesse would find it slightly endearing.</p><p>“It just, appeared …” Hana’s voice is small, thin and exhausted with a wavering edge of shock. Her hands rise subtly from her lab in an indecisive little gesture.</p><p>“She called at midnight,” Jack sighs. Hana nods, seemingly more than happy to let him tell the story. “It appears to have pushed between the realms without the aid of a preexisting portal. We think it might have used the power of the moon.”</p><p>His voice is flat and tired, it’s pitched lower and sounding even more rough than usually.</p><p>“That doesn’t make sense,” it slips out of Jesse before he can stop it. Jack looks up at him, his eyes are hollow and dead tired behind the glasses. He shrugs.</p><p>“No, it doesn’t.”</p><p>“But, Jack, what? That would take-“ he’s rambling, brow furrowed and hands flailing in his confusion.</p><p>“A <em> lot </em>,” Ana cuts in. She runs a hand over her eyes one last time, then turns slightly so he can see the papers laid out in front of her. Numbers and weird figures he doesn’t fully understand, but he gets the gist of it. She’s done the math. She pulls her legs under her to sit cross-legged, facing him.</p><p>“It doesn’t make sense, no,” her voice is low and determined, “but it’s here now. And we need to figure out what we do now.”</p><p>The haetae takes it all in with dignified distance. Jesse feels distinctly uncomfortable when its gaze flickers over him. It isn’t lost on him what these creatures do. To know the innocent from the guilty. He can’t fully say he knows where he belongs on that scale anymore. The razor-sharp point of its horn glint when it shifts slightly.</p><p>“So, what do we do?” his voice is going a little higher than intended. Genji snorts.</p><p>Jack gives the most tired sigh Jesse has ever heard. “First, we need to make sure we haven’t kidnapped Hana.”</p><p>“My parents are out of town,” she mumbles, to Jacks obvious surprise. He grumbles something indecipherable.</p><p>“What?” Fareeha cuts in with stark disbelief, “you mean I smuggled that thing out a window for no good reason?”</p><p>That gets a full on laugh out of Genji. Hana looks almost terrified. “I-I didn’t think of it when you came …”</p><p>“Take it as stealth training,” Genji smirks, Fareeha bristles but lets it go when she sees how sincerely sorry Hana looks.</p><p>“It’s no problem Hana,” she mumbles instead, only wincing slightly.</p><p>Jesse doesn’t know whether to be comforted or disturbed by their banter. The haetae lounges peacefully around the couch, strong muscle bulging, but relaxed for the moment. It’s only its eyes moving, continuously scanning over the scene with intense focus. It also doesn’t escape his notice how everyone but Hana – who the beast is curled protectively around – is keeping a respectful distance to it.</p><p>Then it clicks.</p><p>“It’s the beast,” Ana looks up at him, “it’s – it’s the bond beast, right?”</p><p>Hana and Ana both nod.</p><p>“Yes, we think so,” Ana says, “though it doesn’t explain <em> why </em> they’re bound in the first place or <em> how </em> it came through.”</p><p>Jesse winces. Everything is suddenly catching up to him. He sits down in the chair next to where Ana is sitting. The sigils press heavy over his chest, his nails are still sharp when he rakes a hand across his face, there’s the slow buildup of a headache looming behind his brow.</p><p>He has no answers. The haetae should not be here, should not be able to push through the barriers between realms (‘<em> unaided’ </em> his mind hums with worried superiority). It’s way too early to start considering what all of this might mean.</p><p>He sighs deeply.</p><p>“What do we do with it?” he gestures to the haetae. It blows air through its nostrils, tail curling and thumping heavily against the floor. He lets his hand fall instantly.</p><p>“It can stay here!” Reinhardt booms. He’s the only one of them who doesn’t look like he’s actively considering fleeing from this entire situation to go sleep for a year. Jack sighs while Ana rolls her eyes.</p><p>“We already discussed this,” Ana snaps, “it would not be proper to have it here.”</p><p>“Why not? I’m sure we’d make wonderful friends!” he grins. He shoots the haetea itself a blinding smile, and though it doesn’t outright react, there’s no disgruntled tail swishing either.</p><p>“Rein, it’s the twice the size of your couch,” Jack sounds beyond done. Reinhardt usually isn’t one to back down, but he must notice the determined line of Jack’s shoulders and how his eyes are blown big and black from the seal part of him slowly ebbing in. He might be big, he still isn’t about to take this particular fight.</p><p>He shrugs, smiles at the haetae again with a slight apologetic edge. “Another time then my friend.”</p><p>“The safehouse then?” Fareeha cuts in, sounding like the previous back and forth hadn’t happened at all.</p><p>Ana winces. “I guess,” her voice wavers slightly. She’s eyeing the equations on the floor before her.</p><p>“It’s the best we got,” Genji reasons and Jesse finds it hard to disagree.</p><p>Hana winces slightly where she sits. “What do I tell <em> appa </em>,” her hands wring together absentmindedly, the nail on her thumb digs into the other hands palm, starts scratching. It makes a weird guilt collect in Jesse’s chest. He sees the same reflected on all of their faces - hesitant to reach out to this relative stranger.</p><p>Reinhardt is the first to break from it. He approaches the couch with relaxed shoulders and his hands held up as nonthreatening as possible. The haetae regards him critically but lets him sit down next to Hana. She twitches when he carefully sets a hand on her shoulder. There’s tears threatening to spill over in her eyes.</p><p>“It’ll all be fine,” his voice is still loud in the quiet, but surprisingly gentle. She looks up at him, nods firmly to herself, breathes in slowly. She runs a hand under her eye, wiping away any tears. Then she slaps both her arms around Reinhardt’s broad middle. He looks almost shocked – hands flying out to the side like she’s something precious he might accidentally break. The haetae makes a short grumbling sound, moves to better keep an eye on them. He laughs, winks up at it and draws her into a massive bearhug.</p><p>“Trust me, it’ll all be just fine,” he laughs, “you’ve got<em> two </em>lions looking after you.”</p><p>Jesse watches the scene with a flurry of mixed emotions. The adrenaline and worry is still pulsing thick through his system, not entirely dispersed yet. He locks eyes with Ana, she’s smiling but there’s something thoughtful and uncertain about it. His brows furrow.</p><p>The haetae curls around the couch, big and bold and about as obviously otherworldly as it gets. His arm itches and he absentmindedly scratches over the scar there, traces the ragged edges of the tattoo. Then the idea hits him.</p><p>His eyes must open wide, at least Ana looks at him inquisitively. He opens his mouth to speak, eyes still locked on Hana and the beast towering behind her.</p><p>“I’m going to call Mako.”</p><p>----</p><p>They end up having to call Torbjörn for assistance. Brigitte jumps out of the truck first, spry and well rested in the early morning. Their red hair almost whips Torb in the face when he clambers out after them.</p><p>“Tja!” they wave and semi run up to where Jesse and Ana are standing in the doorway, Hana right behind them and the haetae still standing in the living room, out of sight from the street.</p><p>Fareeha is parked on her bike a little down the road, keeping an eye out for passersby.</p><p>“Hey Brig,” Ana smiles, waving past them to Torbjörn.</p><p>“Where is it?” Brig strains to look past them, hands on their hips and voice bright and light. Jesse has to snort at their attitude. They notice the look and pokes their tongue out at him. He answers with a similar grimace – he has no qualms about playing dumb uncle for them – until Ana jab a pointy elbow into his ribs to make him stop.</p><p>“It’s just inside. Tell your dad to park as close as he can and open the trailer.”</p><p>Brig nods, tries to get one last glance into the house. They still can’t quite catch the haetae, but they do shoot Hana a toothy grin. Then they turn, waves to Torbjörn to get back in the truck with a few sentences of rapid-fire Swedish.</p><p>He swears and clambers back in. Brig directs from the ground until the truck is parked as close to the door as they possibly can.</p><p>He scrambles out to come open the back. He tips his hat at Ana.</p><p>“You all look like death.”</p><p>Ana smiles, blows air through her nose in the approximation of a laugh, “somebody has to.”</p><p>He huffs, crosses his strong arms across his chest. “Let’s get you there, where’s the little lady?”</p><p>“I’m here,” Hana pokes her head out from behind Jesse, chest puffed and arms crossed in a defiant echo of Torb’s body language. He looks at her for a second, and though Jesse recognizes it at as a neutral look over, he’s impressed by Hana not backing down.</p><p>“Okay, get the thing in there,” he shrugs slightly and turns to climb back into the driver’s seat.</p><p>Hana falters for a second, she looks almost like she was prepared for a more explosive confrontation. “Okay?” she mumbles.</p><p>Brig is already rolling their eyes, “don’t mind him,” they grin at Hana, shrugging slightly apologetically. Then they clap, the gap in their front teeth showing when they grin, “well then! Should we get to it?”</p><p>Jesse raises a hand to Fareeha, she does one final scan of the junction she’s overseeing before waving the signal for ‘all clear’.</p><p>Convincing the haetae to leave the building turns out to be surprisingly easy. Jesse stays on the look-out, instinctively – and utterly uselessly – trying to bodily block the view of the haetae while Hana slowly coaxes the beast into the back of the truck.</p><p>It doesn’t stop his nerves from fraying. Intellectually, he knows the entire operation takes maybe five whole minutes. It still feels like an hour of having a very big, very visible magical creature out in the open. He’s not even sure what he’d try to do if somebody were to come this way. When he and Fareeha had to herd a unicorn through the city it had been easy; a conceal spell on the horn and <em> done. </em></p><p>Out of nervous habit, he finds himself tracing the sigil for <em> sleep </em> into his palm.</p><p>“There you go,” Ana sounds only slightly strained when she closes the trailer door. Jesse nods. They both climb in through the side door. You’re technically not allowed to be here while in motion, but that has never stopped them before.</p><p>The haetae is curled into a ball, it might look like it was sleeping if it wasn’t for one of its big, bright eyes watching over them with rapt attention. Hana leans against its scaly side. The magic rising in fumes from it has largely died down, either Jesse isn’t shifted as much as he thought anymore, or the magic isn’t coming from the creature itself as much as it’s the lingering leftover of the magic it had to use to break through from one realm to another.</p><p>It’s still enough to get the portal painted on the trailer wall to glow. Jesse hopes they won’t have to use it, but as he checks his phone for time that hope sinks. Mako’s apartment isn’t exactly remote and at this time of the morning it probably isn’t feasible to get a giant, magical beast into an apartment complex and up three flights of stairs unseen.</p><p>Moving through space in a magical fashion takes a lot, not as much as moving directly between realms, but still a frightening amount. The pre-prepared portal inside Torb’s truck was Jack’s idea. More than half of the needed magic is stored in the various sigils and symbol painted in a circle almost two meters in diameter. Even if both Ana and Fareeha won’t be performing high magic after having used it, it’s come in handy quite a few times over the years of transporting sensitive magical items.</p><p>It's painfully obvious they’ll have to use it when they’re finally there. Jesse can hear through the trailer how there’s a lot more people than a few wayward early morning joggers. Torbjörn parks (illegally, Jesse’s pretty sure) as close to the door as he can. Brigitte pops their head into the trailer moments later.</p><p>The haetae’s head swirl around quickly to look at them, upper lip curling in a startled snarl.</p><p>“We’re here,” they grin before popping back out. Hana’s eyes linger near the door.</p><p>“She’s nice,” she mumbles.</p><p>“They,” Jesse corrects, standing up and stretching upwards till his spine crack. Hana looks confused for a second, then she nods slightly.</p><p>“<em> They </em> are nice,” she nods more determined, “I really like them.”</p><p>Jesse steps out of the trailer, keeping the door as closed as possible the entire way. Fareeha is pulling up beside the truck. Her dark eyes are scanning relentlessly over the street. Brig leans casually against the truck, legs crossed at the ankles and long braid slung over their shoulder.</p><p>“Should we go up?” they inspect their nails before detaching from the truck, hands on their hips.</p><p>Jesse nods, jaw tight. At the same time, Ana pops out the side of the trailer. Jesse can just about see the haetae in the dark behind her.</p><p>“Just call out the window when you’re ready,” she gestures absentmindedly up at where Mako and Jamison live, “I’ll send it up.” She looks unsure for a second, her teeth graze imperceptibly over her lower lip.</p><p>“I think Hana will have to go through too,” she winces slightly, “don’t think the beast will let her leave its side.”</p><p>Jesse hums in acknowledgement, it probably isn’t ideal, but it’s what he expected. There’s a pull in Ana’s body language, like she’s about to turn back and close the door. Then she remembers, turns with a slight <em> ‘oh!’ </em> and points a finger at Jesse.</p><p>“Remember to stay back when they come through, so you don’t go wolf.”</p><p>He rolls his eyes, “sure. Anything else you want to tell us?”</p><p>She grins, “you’re adopted.”</p><p>----</p><p>Brig ascends the stairs in stompy leaps of three steps at a time. Fareeha follows right after with athletic grace. Without prior knowledge it would be impossible to tell she’s been up since midnight.</p><p>It leaves Jesse to clamber after them. He’s slightly breathless when they finally stand on the landing, staring at the door, the brass plate on it proudly announcing ‘<em>Rudtledge</em>’ with ‘<em>&amp;</em> <em>Fawkes</em>’ scratched into the wood below in a messy mix of upper and lowercase letters.</p><p>Jesse knocks. There’s the sound of rustling from inside, then Mako’s distinct low voice calling them to come in.</p><p>It’s dark inside, like it always is. Messy too. Jamison is to blame for most of the mess, scrap metal and screws scattered over the floor along with the sad remains of take out and various microwaved dishes. Mako’s mess is of a distinctly different type; stacks of books line the floor along the couch, plush animals of all sizes are neatly arranged on pretty much every available surface, placed among bottles of ink in all colors.</p><p>“Hey,” Mako’s voice is deep and thick, rumbling out from the kitchen. He emerges into the living room, already wearing gloves and a face mask.</p><p>“Hey there,” Jesse shoots a loose finger gun to him. Mako looks them over with unreadable eyes.</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>No one’s ever accused Mako of being a man of many words. Jesse winces.</p><p>“Thought I told you, it’s a haetae, we couldn’t get it up the stairs.”</p><p>Mako shrugs, “the portal then?”</p><p>“If it aint a problem.”</p><p>Mako huffs, “you’re already here.”</p><p>Brig barks a laugh which earns them a good-natured pat on the head from Mako when he turns and knocks on a door beside the one leading to the kitchen.</p><p>There’s a scramble from inside, then a loud squawk followed by Jamison yanking the door open from within.</p><p>“What?” then he spots them and all bark instantly bleed out of his voice, “Oh, g’day mate.” He’s shirtless and dressed in sweatpants that’s probably more hole than pant at this time. His prosthetics catch the dim light as he leans casually against the doorframe.</p><p>“What are you lot doing here so early?”</p><p>“Move, they need the portal,” Mako grumbles.</p><p>“Awfully sorry about the disturbance, Jaime,” Jesse grins, not unkind. Jamison rolls his eyes at him.</p><p>“When you have to you have to, what’re you bringing through?” his head bobs slightly as he speaks, jittery excitement shining through. Jesse’s pretty sure he might have slept when Mako knocked. He’s wide awake now.</p><p>“A friend of ours and a haetae,” Fareeha answers, cold and detached. Jamison perks up at the mentions of the creature. Jesse’s pretty sure it’s subconscious when he starts counting something out on his fingers.</p><p>“Haven’t seen one of those in some time,” he mumbles, thoughtful.</p><p>“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t,” Jesse arcs an eyebrow at him. Jamison raises both hands reflectively, shakes his head slightly.</p><p>“Aw, you don’t have to worry, mate. Old habits die hard is all. You know how much you can sell a haetae for?”</p><p>Brig snorts behind Jesse. ”Probably not enough to make it worth the chase?” they reason.</p><p>Jamison nods like he’s considering. “You’re probably right,” he tabs his fingers against the prosthetic hand as he speaks.</p><p>“There it is,” Mako cuts through. He’s pointing at the farthest wall of what looks to be their shared bedroom. It’s possibly even more of a mess in here; divided neatly into scraps and food wrappings in one half, dog-eared books and plushies in the other.</p><p>And there on the wall is a pre-prepared portal almost precisely like the one in Torbjörn’s truck. Fareeha is already rolling up her sleeves.</p><p>“I’m gonna go set up,” Mako grumbles and goes back into the living room without waiting on a response. </p><p>“Okay,” Fareeha mumbles, mostly to herself, “let’s get to it.”</p><p>Jamison is overall not helpful with getting the circle ready. He leans against the wall and quips at a largely unresponsive Fareeha while Jesse and Brig clear away the worst mess around the portal.</p><p>They end up having to move a low dresser out of the way. Through it all, the dull magical press – not active but ready to become it – from the portal scratches over Jesse’s skin.</p><p>“There you go,” he straightens up, gestures for Fareeha to come do her thing.</p><p>“I’ll tell Ana,” Brig is already moving towards the window, plunging almost their entire upper body out of it to yell something. Jesse catches the tail end of Ana’s reply, something about ‘<em> be careful, habibti’. </em></p><p>“She’s all set up,” Brig beams at Fareeha as they turn from the window. Fareeha’s eyes narrow. She blows out a slow breath and gets to work. The air tingles slightly and Jesse is already backing away from her. She breathes a last, centering breath and clasp her hands together in front of her chest before starting up the spell, a low, humming mumbling of latin.</p><p>Her palms part and each glow a deep, shimmering cobalt. She places them against the wall and the entire circle – every carefully painted symbol making up its shape – <em> thrums </em>.</p><p>“Here they come,” Fareeha’s voice is low and strained, single-mindedly focused on letting the magic flow from her palms and into the circle.</p><p>Jesse dutifully backs away. His chest sings already, jaws straining from the raw magical output. Luckily, he’s firmly behind the wall when the portal finally bursts open. He sees the glow fall through the door, a bright flash. The heavy <em> ‘thump’ </em> of the haetae stepping through and a sharp gasp from Hana.</p><p>He’s distantly glad he can’t see it. The warped perspective through the portals always throws him off. The magic itself is enough to make him dizzy and add to that the distorted, slightly off angels of everything and he’s always on the brink of breaking into a migraine.</p><p>Ana’s voice sounds muffled through as she signs off and closes the portal with a weird, metallic suction sound.</p><p>Hana swears in breathy Korean. Jesse pokes his head into the bedroom. Brig has a strong hand closed around Hana’s bicep, keeping her upright through the vertigo. The haetae oversees it all with kingly grace, though its ears are pointed forward and its eyes locked on Brig.</p><p>Jamison takes in the beast with calculating awe and Fareeha looks just like she’s looked all day; tired, but in no mind to back down from the action before it’s over.</p><p>“Breathe,” Brig mumbles, gentle and low. Their thumb is rubbing in soothing, grounding circles against Hana’s skin. Hana nods, but doesn’t attempt to speak. Her chest rises and falls rapidly until she gets it under control.</p><p>“That was … something,” she squeaks at last and Jesse just manages to start to worry before a grin split her face, “how often do you do that?”</p><p>Brig snorts, “as little as we can.”</p><p>Hana looks at them with bright, intelligent eyes. Her mouth opens like she’s about to retort with something when Mako’s voice echoes into the bedroom.</p><p>“I’m ready.”</p><p>Hana’s mouth closes. So does Brig’s hand on her arm, a quick, supportive squeeze before they let her go.</p><p>Mako has cleaned at least the center of the living room significantly. He’s kneeling besides the coffee table. The tattoo machine is set up with a wide selection of inks lying ready for use behind him. Bundles of herbs are stacked under the table, easily within reach. He looks intimidating, but Hana takes it in stride.</p><p>They have explained it to her before, why this whole expedition was probably the safest and most convenient way. Jesse’s even shown her the skull on his arm while Fareeha traced the subtle lines of the sigils worked into the ink work. Yet Jesse feels like he owes it to her to explain it one last time, let her tap out from this entire deal.</p><p>Hana strides into the living room, sits down next to Mako with curious eyes.</p><p>“Okay Hana,” Jesse begins, “you don’t have to do this.” She nods. “It’s a lot and it’s permanent and it’ll probably have to be about this big,” he makes a circle in the air about the size of a tennis ball, Mako grunts in confirmation, “to work properly. But it is the easiest way to contain this connection between you two.”</p><p>She nods again. The haetae presses close to her back, hesitant to stray from the human it’s bound to. He carries on.</p><p>“You’ll become like-“ he fumbles for words, “like a portal you could say. If everything goes after the plan it’ll be able to live inside you, as a part of your life energy and you can summon it into this physical plane whenever you want. And whenever it wants. It’ll never become a lab dog, and it might be uncomfortable, but you won’t have it here, physically, with you all the time.”</p><p>She’s gnawing her teeth over her lower lip, her brows are drawn together like she’s considering it.</p><p>“I know tattoos aren’t for anyone, but it’ll probably be easier to both hide and explain than that,” he smiles, gesturing up at the haetae.</p><p>She nods more vigorously. Her eyes glide up to meet his, dark and determined. “A bunny,” she says, dead serious.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>She rolls her eyes, “I want it to be a bunny. Can you do a bunny?” the last part is directed at Mako. He’s hard to read beneath the face mask, but his eyes do crinkle up the tiniest bit.</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Hana ends up gripping onto Brig’s hand so tight Jesse’s almost surprised he doesn’t hear bone creaking while Mako calmly and patiently scratch a mischievous looking bunny into her upper bicep, pausing along the way the recite spells and crumble various herbs in his hands, the magic fizzling and dispersing into the ink. </p><p>Fareeha sits on a chair and cards through her hair with a hand while Jesse leans with his hip against her and Jamison talks excitedly – more at them than with them. Ana climbs the stairs and joins their little group.</p><p>Mako’s work is hypnotic, an art in and of itself and one he studied for ages to get down. Jesse’s impressed by how much he continues to improve. The piece on his own arm is functional, but not artistically impressive. Hana’s bunny has a charm to it and as far as he can tell, no tattoo professional would say anything negative about the craftmanship of it.</p><p>“Done,” Mako grumbles at last. “Would tell you how to care for it, but don’t think it’ll be necessary.” He looks up at Ana. She’s already shaking her head.</p><p>“I’ll get Angela to look at it,” she assures. She moves to kneel down besides Hana. “Now to activate it,” she grabs Hana’s wrist, press her fingers down over the tattoo – Hana winces, but doesn’t protest.</p><p>“Recite after me,” Ana dictates, her no-nonsense ‘<em> I was an army doctor </em>’-voice fully activated. With one hand against the mark and the other pressed against the haetae’s chest, Hana dutifully repeats everything Ana tells her to. The haetae moves in quick little nudges, but its eyes stay calm and dark until the spell is complete and it disperses into a sea of vibrant blues and reds – pure magical energy flowing along the lines of their connection and burning bright around Hana like a halo for a split second before it surges inwards towards her.</p><p>She gasps, her pupils blown wide.</p><p>And then it’s done.</p><p>----</p><p>The next couple of hours pass in a blur. Torbjörn and Brig say their goodbyes – Torb brusque and disinterested, Brig with bright, smiling eyes – and drive away. Jack has brought Angela. She pulls Hana into the van and instructs Jack to take them to her place.</p><p>He does and the bone deep tiredness seems to hit them all on the short car ride. Angela works mechanically and trained on Hana’s new mark. Makes sure it’s looking good. Then she does a more general check of her – heart rate a little high, but not by an alarming amount.</p><p>She’s all smiles and excellent patient care until the moment Hana’s out of earshot and she in no uncertain terms tells them to go home, eat something, drink at least 30 ounces of water and then get some sleep. They all nod silently.</p><p>Ana has a lengthy discussion with Hana when they drop her off at her house. It’s still dark and deserted, her parents probably won’t be home for another half a day. Ana worries, asks if somebody should stay with her while Hana, with her chest puffed and teenage pride on full display, assures her it’ll be fine.</p><p>It ends with Hana getting all of their phone numbers, including Rein, Brig and Angela, scribbled on her arm just in case and strict orders to contact them if anything felt off.</p><p>Fareeha asks to be dropped off at her own apartment, which is a decidedly speedier process. Jack yells at her to get something to eat before she passes out and Ana kisses her brow with a mumbled blessing.</p><p>Ana too asks to be dropped off while they’re still a good distance from The Dandelion. Jack’s mouth twists for a split second but he complies anyway. She thinks when she walks, still needs to calm down and they both know her well enough to not question her on it. </p><p>She ruffles Jesse’s hair and mumbles something about when she’ll be home to Jack and then she’s off into the early afternoon.</p><p>It leaves Jack and Jesse alone in the car. Jack sighs, heavy and tired. And suddenly the world grows stark and pointy around Jesse. His own exhaustion hits him like a train, something physical against his chest. He breathes out shakily.</p><p>Jack glances over at him but says nothing. He doesn’t even suggest driving Jesse home, heading straight for The Dandelion.</p><p>They climb the stairs in the same silence. The key clicks in the lock and Reap is instantly there, licking at Jesse’s hands with slow, gentle movements.</p><p>“Hey girl,” he sinks down slowly beside her. The world is vibrating. There’s a misery wallowing in his chest. His breath is labored, and he isn’t sure exactly why. His hands feel thick and uncoordinated in Reap’s fur.</p><p>The door closes with a click behind him.</p><p>“I’m sorry we scared you,” Jack’s voice is rough and low. A mumble more than anything. He sounds tired, so tired and sorry in a way that borders on painful.</p><p>No <em> if </em>.</p><p>Jesse breathes out. For some reason a shaky little laugh worms it’s way up his throat. He goes to wipe at his cheek and finds his hand comes away wet.</p><p>He’s been fine all day, he’s sure of it. He flinches slightly when Jack places a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“Come on.”</p><p>Jesse nods, straightens up and wobbles into the living room. He sits down heavy on the couch. Again, there’s a weird little laugh crawling up his chest and bubbling out, “what the hell.” His hands shake.</p><p>The couch dips beside him when Jack sits down. He’s pressing a glass of water into Jesse’s hand. Jesse’s just about to explain how this is nonsense and weird and there’s no reason for his body to react like this, but Jack is coolly regarding him, demanding him to drink.</p><p>“It’s okay, kid,” his hand is working over Jesse’s neck, strong and calloused. Jesse drinks, eyebrows knitted together and chest tight. ‘</p><p>“It’s fine, we’re here,” Jack’s voice is familiarly gruff, but low and sincere as well. Jesse wants to explain that this is odd, and he’s been fine all day and in reality, he wasn’t that worried, really.</p><p>Jack is having none of it. He’s already mumbling something at Jesse before he detaches and returns with instant noodles and more water. Reap takes her opportunity to jump up next to Jesse and curl into a ball next to him. He burrows a hand in her rough fur and accepts more water from Jack.</p><p>Jack sits down and slings an arm around his shoulder. Jesse chuckles again, wipes the first traces of tears away once more. “I don’t know why I’m like this now,” he chuckles. Jack smiles back, a little weakly, and squeezes him slightly.</p><p>“It’s okay kid, it’s more than okay,” he reaches for the TV remote and presses it into Jesse’s hand. Jesse laughs watery again, picks up his noodles as Reap puts her head on his thigh.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Jack mumbles, and Jesse isn’t exactly sure he was meant to hear it. He leans back in the couch and zaps until he finds the tackiest looking day time TV possible. Jack shakes him with an overbearing laugh and rolls his eyes.</p><p>His breathing has mellowed out significantly by the time some low budget game show overtakes the screen. He pretends he doesn’t notice Jack casting sporadic, side way glances at him, blue eyes worried and gentle in a way that makes Jesse’s chest ache in a way that somehow makes it easier to breathe.</p><p>----</p><p>When Ana finds them much later, they’re both fast asleep – Jesse drooling on Jack’s shoulder with his elbow jabbed into his stomach. Reap is curled into a ball by Jack’s feet. She looks up with intelligent dark eyes as Ana fetches a blanket to throw over them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading! This chapter is the one so far introducing the most characters (apart from the first). I hope you like them. </p><p>I've pretty much always HC'ed Brig as a transfem enby and that's why I'll exclusively use they/them pronouns for them throughout this fic. They're also my main in the actual game and I adore them very much</p><p>I'm also toying with the idea of bumping up the rating on this from M to E. It probably wont become relevant for at least some time, but I think I am interested in exploring this version of the characters in a more ... 18+ way. (this is my way of coming out to you as a repressed gay who misses his boyfriend). I'm still unsure, however, if it should be done as a part of the main fic or in separate little ficlets from the same universe. I'm just spouting ideas here. If you have input or preferences on it, I'd love to hear</p><p>That's enough from me. Thank you so, so much for reading. It seriously means the world<br/>Comments fuel me &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Talking, some of it is both cute and helpful</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm incredibly sorry for the lateness of this chapter - I hope it's worth the wait! I've recently graduated college (I guess it'd be college??? Danish education is weird my dudes) so I've had quite a lot on my plate! I hope to get future chapters out in a more timely manner</p><p>Thank you so much for continuing to support this silly little thing, it means the world &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hanzo is staring.</p><p>He didn’t mean to, but he is. Mei is wearing the hat again. She giggles and straightens her glasses so the sun bounces of the rim. It’s almost 75° in the late summer sun and yet she’s still wearing the hat, pulled down for enough to hide her ears and her hairline.</p><p>So yes, Hanzo is staring.</p><p>Satya keeps sending glances his way and he’s suddenly very glad they’re not sitting directly across from one another or he’s pretty sure he would have received a fair amount of kicks to the shins already.</p><p>Mei herself seems almost oblivious of how he’s looking at her. She laughs and blushes and wrings her hands and only occasionally looks up at him, almost apologetically.</p><p>“I’ll be going to the zoo actually!”</p><p>Hanzo’s missed Satya’s question, his head snap up at Mei’s bright answer. Satya is looking at him with immense disappointment.</p><p>“You can come, if you want of course?” Mei leans over the table, her eyes flickers shortly to Hanzo, but it’s pretty clear she’s far more engaged in Satya’s answer.</p><p>Hanzo himself must look as lost and slightly embarrassed as he feels. At least there’s a twitch by the corner of Satya’s mouth. She sits up straight and crosses her long legs beneath the table.</p><p>“Ms. Zhou was just disclosing her plans for the weekend,” She informs, voice low and almost as cold as her eyes.</p><p>Hanzo nods, meeting her eyes with brute determination. Satya’s using the look that lets him know he can’t look away to stare more at Mei’s head without her launching over the table and inflict terrible physical harm on him – without leaving unsightly scars, of course.</p><p>“That sounds nice Mei,” he tries. Satya scoffs, but drops her gaze to fix her shirt. The small talk feels awkward in Hanzo’s mouth, but Mei either doesn’t notice or is polite enough to ignore it.</p><p>“Yes!” her hands almost meet in an excited clap before she gets them under control and joins them in her lap with a slight blush, “I was going to bring Snowball, but I don’t think it’s allowed.”</p><p>“Snowball?” Hanzo’s pretty sure they’ve discussed this while he was zoned out.</p><p>“Yes,” the bite in Satya’s voice confirms that inkling, “Snowball, her bunny.”</p><p>“Can’t you smuggle it in?”</p><p>Mei giggles slightly, then looks absolutely terrified when his face stays serious.</p><p>“You can do that?”</p><p>“It isn’t exactly orderly,” Satya leans back, resting her crossed wrists on her knee, “but it could be done.”</p><p>Mei looks lost, she looks between them once, then again for good measure.</p><p>“Most people think it’s silly I want him with me,” she pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, shoots a small smile up at Hanzo. She giggles again, her hands flying up to hide her mouth, “I wanted him to see the polar bears.”</p><p>“It is not silly, we will find a way,” Satya is already not looking fully at Mei, her eyes are sharp and concentrated – Hanzo’s pretty sure she could lay out at least four fully formed plans for smuggling a rabbit into a zoo already.</p><p>“Thank you,” Mei mumbles. She’s looking up at Satya with eyes almost too genuine and open. Satya must notice it too, once she snaps out of her planning. At least her graceful detachment falters for a split second and the corner of her mouth quips up imperceptibly.</p><p>Mei’s quick to drop her gaze once Satya makes eye contact. Her cheeks are dusted a lovely red and she shifts slightly in her seat. “So, did you want to come?” her shoulders tense up, like she’s steeling herself for impact, “to help with Snowball of course!”</p><p>Hanzo can practically sense a new, nervous string of excuses climbing up her chest, her hands becoming flighty and tense. It makes something in his chest curl uncomfortably, way too similar to that evening on the stairs.</p><p>Satya, apparently, is having none of it. “It would be my absolute pleasure.” She’s never been quick to smile, her feelings rarely showing openly on her face. Mei apparently gets the genuine softness and joy hidden away in the words. She smiles blindingly and nods to herself.</p><p>“Will you be accompanying us?” Satya turns her stark gaze on Hanzo.</p><p>He breathes out, his shoulders straightening.</p><p>“No, unfortunately not.”</p><p>Satya nods shortly, making a mental note of it. Hanzo’s pretty sure she knows why. Her mental calendar is well kept and orderly. Mei, however, looks crestfallen.</p><p>“I have … other business to attend,” he explains lamely.</p><p>She nods, still watching him with her big, dark eyes. The worry poorly hidden. Hanzo shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin. With Satya, everything is hints and shared, silent understanding. It’s been a couple years since he’s had to explain everything, where he comes from and how it still echoes through his life.</p><p>He’d almost managed to forget the dates – compartmentalize his life further and get lost in the tender dance Satya and Mei are going through, the fragile familiarity of it all and his own, private, embarrassing theories about Mei’s ever-present hat.</p><p>Mei’s head lulls to the side, there’s a flash of something apologetic through her face, “oh, okay then. Another time!” Her eyes crinkle up when she smiles.</p><p>He smiles back and a bit of the worry bleeds out of her.</p><p>“If you don’t mind me asking, what’re you doing?” she twirls a lock of her hair, but doesn’t back down from eye contact.</p><p>His eyes flicker to Satya and the muscles in his jaw work involuntarily. He’s still working against the instinct that tells him to straighten out and become stone when his chest starts aching. Satya has never told him it’s okay to be soft and vulnerable, not with her words at least.</p><p>She smiles back at him, mostly with her eyes, soft and understanding to the point of almost unbearable. Mei looks at him and her hands are already rising to wave away the question with a mumbled apology.</p><p>He forces his shoulders to release some of the tension and shakes his head almost imperceptibly at her, a silent ‘<em>it’s okay</em>’</p><p>“I’m going to visit my brother.”</p><p>----</p><p>Dae-Hyun hasn’t stopped looking mildly disbelieving in two days. At least he isn’t looking at her with barely concealed concern anymore.</p><p>She’s gotten over the initial disappointment that he can’t see it. It pulses underneath her skin and sometimes a deep rumble glows through her and sparks of red and blue dance in the air above her skin.</p><p>She jumped the first time it happened, scared it might suddenly break loose. Ana sounded close to falling right back asleep through the phone and Dea-Hyun looked at her like he was debating calling an ambulance. She’s halfway given up on trying to explain. He can’t see it and her – admittedly slightly disjointed – attempts to explain about the haetae, werewolves and magic haven’t really helped.</p><p>He sits with his legs crossed on her floor, leaning back on his hands.</p><p>“You sure you’re sleeping enough?”</p><p>She answers by chugging a pillow at him from her place on the bed, “yes, you dumbass!”</p><p>He squawks when it hits him square in the face. He giggles and rolls onto his back. “I’m just saying, I care about you.” There’s a strain of genuine, soft worry in his expression when he sits up and throws the pillow back at her.</p><p>She dodges gracefully. Grabs the pillow and fluffs it up against the wall to lean against. He’s still looking up at her with that terribly open, soft expression that makes a sour dread anyone’ll take advantage of him curl up in her chest. She averts her eyes, blows a lock of hair out of her face.</p><p>“I know,” she crosses her arms defiantly over her chest, “I know you do. I just wish you believed me too.”</p><p>He slouches slightly and she knows it’s unfair. She probably wouldn’t believe all of this either if she couldn’t see it. She flops back against the wall, brings both hands up to cover her face. She groans soulfully and the haetae apparently decides this is the moment to squirm around. The energy burns without heat and there’s a burst of blue sparks rising above her shoulder. She rubs at it absentmindedly, determined to not give Dae-Hyun further cause for worrying.</p><p>“It’s just, so frustrating,” she mumbles. Her nose scrunches up in a slight apologetic grimace, almost a smile.</p><p>There’s a brief crinkle over the bridge of his nose, a dead giveaway he’s considering how to word the next sentence.</p><p>“Hana, I do believe you, at least I really want to. It’s just … it’s a lot to take in,” he pushes forward, legs folding beneath him to lean towards her. He smiles halfheartedly at her.</p><p>She breathes out quick, halfway to a scoff, but still smiling. He’s already rolling his eyes at whatever comebacks she’s clearly brewing.</p><p>“You build a robot when you were eleven! You’re supposed to be able to take stuff in.”</p><p>His brows knit together for a second, like he’s actually considering the legitimacy of her train of thought.</p><p>“Not sure what the connection is, honestly.” His face cracks into an uneven smile, carving a lone dimple into one of his cheeks.</p><p>She scoffs in mock offense but doesn’t try to explain. If she keeps pushing, he will launch into in depth explanations of robotics and though she’s no novice on the topic, it will start to sound like some weird, alien language eventually.</p><p>Instead the friendly silence stretches through the room. Dae-Hyun goes back to leaning on his hands. A ray of warm afternoon sunlight stretches across him, sets the edges of his hair ablaze as he begins tinkering with one of the parts strewn across the floor – it looks like a discarded bit of the optimized printer they tried putting together for her mom last year.</p><p>“So what now?” he looks up at her, head tilted to the side.</p><p>She raises one eyebrow. He waves indecisively, shrugging slightly.</p><p>“You’ve got this … creature-”</p><p>“Beast, a haetae,” she corrects, with all the authority of somebody who didn’t realize magic was real less than a week ago.</p><p>“<em>Beast</em>,” he concedes with a shrug, “this beast inside you and some troop of flower nerds who’re werewolves and witches? What now?”</p><p>She pouts slightly, hugs the pillow to her chest. “I don’t know?”</p><p>He nods sagely.</p><p>“There’s so much,” she sighs, throwing her head back so it hits the wall with a low <em>thump</em>, “I suddenly notice all these things and I don’t know what to do with them. The haetae, it’s always there but I don’t think it … I don’t think it <em>wants</em> anything?”</p><p>His head lulls to one side, his eyebrows draw together in thought, “you can communicate with it?”</p><p>She shrugs, unsure how to answer, “I don’t know. I told you how it like, thrashes?”</p><p>He nods, eyes fixed on her. She can practically hear the cogs turning as he files the information away.</p><p>“Sometimes there’s like a vibe to it?” her voice is rising with the question. She can too clearly hear the parts of it that sound like she truly isn’t getting enough sleep. The haetae apparently agrees, there’s a pulse of something approaching … mirth? Sympathy? Flowing through her. The emotions of the haetae are decidedly non-human, warped and strange and hard to decipher on a whim.</p><p>Dae-Hyun has gone back to a look of vague concern. She decides to ignore it, waving it off with a lax hand movement and sitting up more straight on the bed.</p><p>“Anyway, what I’m saying is, I don’t think I’m some sort of chosen one-“</p><p>His eyebrows fly up and there’s the beginning of a lopsided smirk on his lips, she sighs overdramatically, rolls her eyes for effect.</p><p>“I don’t think I have to do anything next, is what I’m trying to say,” she continues. “Though that Sombra woman, I don’t know what to think of that.”</p><p>Her voice trails off. She starts picking at her nails. Truth be told, she doesn’t know what to do now. The novelty of it all, the haetae beneath her skin and the magic – quiet and undeniable – flowing through most things hasn’t worn off yet. And still, there’s a tiredness setting into her as well. A sudden reminder of how small she is and how big and complicated this new world is. Ana’s voice echoing in her skull when she implies some of the things out there aren’t friendly.</p><p>“Sombra?” Dae-Hyun pulls her out of it. He’s suddenly sitting incredibly straight, leaning towards her slightly.</p><p>“Yes?” she begins, clearly sensing his sudden interest, “that shadow lady I told you about?”</p><p>“You never called her Sombra?”</p><p>She shrugs, even if it is a tad wavering, “didn’t think her name was that important. You did hear when I told you she was made of shadow, right?”</p><p>He waves her off with a distracted hum. He’s tapping his fingers against his knee and he’s doing that thing with his lip he always does when he’s lost in thought and then denies having ever done afterwards.</p><p>“What’s important about the name, Dae-Hyun?” she asks, voice gentle and low. She learned a long time ago he doesn’t become distant out of malice. As expected, he snaps out of it with a low <em>huh</em>. His eyes flicker up to meet hers.</p><p>“I’ve, I’ve just heard it before,” his nose scrunches up for a second, “it’s probably nothing though.”</p><p>“No, what is it?” it sounds utterly wild that he should know anything about her, and yet, she’s intrigued. She flops over on the bed to lay on her stomach, resting her chin on her hands.</p><p>He sighs, nose still crinkled in reluctance, “Sombra, it’s a name of this group – we think,” he waves indecisively, “they’re quite secretive but they do like hacking and stuff?”</p><p>A low, outraged <em>oo</em> escapes her before she can catch it.</p><p>“Not that kind of hacking,” he teases with a good-natured grin. She pokes her tongue out at him, rolls her eyes.</p><p>“I know,” she rolls onto her back, her head dangling over the bedframe to look at him upside down, “but I’m not sure I see the connection. I’m pretty sure <em>sombra</em>’s just shadow in Spanish?”</p><p>There’s a twitch by the side of his mouth. His teeth work over his lower lips and he shrugs noncommittally, “you just mentioned the smell of ozone-“ he trails off, his eyes dropping to his hands and his brows drawing close in thought again.</p><p>“Yes?” she prods.</p><p>He shakes his head slightly, “it reminded me, remember how somebody broke through the security at my dad’s office a month ago?” he looks up and she nods, she does remember. Brand new security system, they’d celebrated and bragged to whatever news outlet would listen about cutting edge technology and then somebody broke through just to steal nothing at all – like it was mostly to prove they could. “They said the same, ozone and metal.”</p><p>For a moment they’re starring each other down, eyes wide and locked. Then he shrugs, retreats from the eye contact with a murmured <em>I don’t know</em>.</p><p>She still regards him, eyes pinched. She’s not sure if it’s her mind seeing patterns and connections everywhere, but it does sound awfully familiar. The tang of metal burning in the air as a woman made of twitching shadow - <em>Sombra - </em>manifests and dissolves in her room. <em>Knowledge is power. </em>It makes Hana’s fingers tingle with a feeling she can’t quite place.</p><p>“Can you ask around?”</p><p>Dae-Hyun’s head whips up at her question. She nods slowly to herself, made slightly awkward by the way she’s draped over the bed.</p><p>“If my Sombra is connected to this hacker group, it might be a good idea to read up on them,” she explains, her hands flailing in the air above her.</p><p>“Sure,” he nods, “but don’t expect anything.”</p><p>She nods sagely, batting her eyelids in her best impression of someone who expects absolutely nothing.</p><p>“But!” he holds up one finger and his expression suddenly dips into a wicked mix of pretend poise and razor sharp teasing, “you have to tell me about this Brig character of yours.”</p><p>Her sigh is apparently heartfelt enough to be hilarious, at least he rolls onto his back with laughter. She chugs the pillow at him again, but the weird, anxious feeling in her chest does dissipate some.</p><p>----</p><p>Genji’s grave has never been flashy. It isn’t even a proper grave. The stone rests near the base of a tree – it’s a couple weeks too late to see it be heavy with cherries. The birds and children stretching on their tiptoes have already taken their share.</p><p>He’s never learned where Genji’s actual grave is. If there even is a real stone out there with his ashes buried below it. By the end they lived so different lives Hanzo’s not sure if Genji even had friends who could identify him. If there’s anyone, by a different stone in a proper graveyard who grieves too.</p><p>He looks around before kneeling beside the stone. When the tree isn’t luring people close with it’s fruit it’s a rather deserted part of the park.  It’s why they choose it in the first place, secluded and quiet and – in the right light – reminiscent of home. Most of the few good memories Hanzo has of his brother were made here. Even if the tree isn’t the right sort and he’s probably spent too much time here berating Genji for being too frivolous or too childish or too needlessly fascinated by their family’s history and stories.</p><p>Even if he’s wasted so much time and the guilt sits like something heavy and black behind his ribs. He can still picture Genji smiling in the spotted sunlight.</p><p>The stone is cold and smooth when he runs his fingers over it. He debated for so long to scratch Genji’s name into the rock, but it never felt right. Too official, too tangible. He has no right to grieve in the first place, has almost cast aside the right to even utter Genji’s name. No amount of carved stones would ever make up for it.</p><p>The surface of the stone is smooth and light grey – shot through with veins of almost pure black and something that shines and glimmers in the sun. He scratches the few traces of moss off it, makes sure it’s laying secure and snug and the grass around it isn’t too tall. He’s not sure Genji would have liked it, too neat and secluded. He isn’t sure if this is just Hanzo projecting his own hopes and dreams on Genji one last time and laying him to rest somewhere serene and beautiful and traditionally.</p><p>“Should I have placed you by that one club?” he asks the stone, not for the first time, “down by that little café I think you liked?”</p><p>The stone doesn’t answer, but the breeze rushes through the leaves above so the sunlight scatters and shifts over it and the veins glitter.</p><p>He knows Genji would have scoffed and laughed at the conversations he has with his memorial. Always practical, always asking questions. <em>Relax, brother. Live a little!</em> His voice almost echoes over the grass, something near a smile, but with a harder edge, surging through the tone.</p><p>He has to get on with his ritual or the bitterness will suddenly swell in his throat and he’ll have to leave before he does something reckless and thoughtless. The lesson has been drilled so deep into him; respect the dead. And yet Genji’s still there taunting him. He wants so badly to let go of that bitterness and yet it clings to his skin like oil.</p><p>Their father taught respect and stubborn pride and even if he carries himself like a natural born leader, Hanzo’s always been a terribly good listener.</p><p>He sits with his back straight and his legs folded beneath him. The incense burns easily. It’s one of the only traditions from back home Genji kept at, liked even. The smell is weird, synthetic and sharp – the box claims it’s cotton candy – and to Hanzo the concept is strange, bordering on blasphemous, but he’s pretty sure Genji would have loved them. If nothing else, then to see Hanzo wince overdramatically.</p><p>He watches the stick burn down slowly. Thin, grey smoke over a thin, grey grave. He’s always silent, the ritual doesn’t change even if he wishes it would.</p><p>The words dry up in his throat and none of them are right. ‘<em>I wish it had been different</em>’ is an empty want when you’re responsible for the way things are. <em>‘It should have been me’ </em>would have gone against all Genji’s own wishes to see him grow and become better. ‘<em>I miss you</em>’ is too soft a thing to tell a man you murdered.</p><p>The incense fizzle and burns out. The scent and the smoke linger. He averts his eyes, the smoke suddenly burns. His hands fist in the fabric of his pants.</p><p>“So long brother.”</p><p>He collects his stuff and angles to get up. He stretches a hand up and picks one of the last cherries hidden in the foliage. It’s round and so deep red it’s almost black.</p><p>----</p><p>He gets about twenty meters out from his and Genji’s spot before Satya is apparently panicked enough to forget what he’s told her he’ll be doing today.</p><p>The message is short and not outwardly panicky. ‘<em>Ms. Zhou is quite fascinated by the artic foxes.’. </em></p><p>Visiting Genji always leaves him feeling heavy in a weird, undefinable way and yet he can’t hold back a slight smile at the message.</p><p>
  <em>‘Well, are they any good?’</em>
</p><p>He can vividly imagine her contemplative grimace at the question. Unless he’s terribly misunderstood her character, she’s probably spent most of the zoo trip caught up in how Mei feels about the whole affair. He’s pretty sure the inkling is right, and yet the reply manages to blindside him.</p><p>
  <em>‘It’s quite peculiar, they remind me of her.’</em>
</p><p>He raises an eyebrow, not sure how to answer that. His contemplation is, however, cut short when yet another message from Satya ticks in.</p><p>
  <em>‘I think I do like them’</em>
</p><p>He almost lets out a low, gruff laugh at that. It’s sweet to the point of saccharine and almost slightly out of character for her, missing punctuation and all. He types out his answer and shoves his phone into a pocket before she can respond.</p><p>And then he’s met with trouble all of his own.</p><p>The park isn’t large. It’s segmented into many neat little niches, connected by a myriad of paths. The path he’s on – the one he has to follow unless he wants to take a winding detour to the exit – leads past a small lake. It’s serene. Hanzo’s knelt by it more times than he can count, it’s nice. A quiet, less personal place to collect his thoughts when he’s passed by Genji’s grave to pay his respects.</p><p>He only ever stops there if there’s no people.</p><p>And right now, there are people.</p><p>He breathes in. His hand is already rising to rub over the bridge of his nose though it feels like a slightly disrespectful thing to do while witnessing the scene unfolding before him. <em>Genji would have helped</em> some unhelpful part of his brain supplies and he narrowly avoids sneering out an audible response to it.</p><p>But it’s right, however insistent and deeply inconvenient. Genji would have helped and he so desperately needs to live up to the impotent want to <em>do better</em> he feels bubbling in the back of his mind whenever he visits Genji.</p><p>That’s why he unslings his bag from his shoulder and starts jogging. Not out of an altruistic want to help out or some sort of hero complex. Mostly because he sort of, maybe promised trying to be more like a man he all but murdered.</p><p>So Hanzo jogs, over the grass and past the man in a cowboy hat who’s standing on the bank looking suspiciously like the dude who shamelessly flirted with him in a coffeeshop. Into the water where another man is thrashing like something is grabbing him from the murky bottom of the pond.</p><p>He doesn’t miss the way the dreadlocks whip in the air and how the high ponytail looks suspiciously familiar. It cannot be the same guy from his unfortunate visit at the flower shop, it cannot. And the man at the bank is not his flirtatious cowboy, there’s no way. His life cannot be that laughable he refuses to believe it.</p><p>The water is up to his waist, thick and brown with swirls of errand mud whirling around him. The bottom is soft and welcomes his boots with a wet, slurping sensation.</p><p>He closes a hand around the man’s arm. He looks up with huge, surprised eyes. His lips part like he wants to say something. Then there’s a horrible, sloshing sensation at his feet as <em>something</em> whips around his leg and <em>pulls</em>.</p><p>Hanzo hopes Satya’s date is going well.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ooooooooo. Does this count as a cliff hanger?? I hope it isn't too confusing there at the end, the next chapter will hopefully clear things up</p><p>Thank you so, so much for reading - please consider leaving a comment if you enjoy my ramblings, it means a lot &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Does This Count As A Beach Episode?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ok so remember when I said I'd get this chapter out quick? Well that was a lie apparently. I've had an amazing and also incredibly busy summer. Thank you so, so much for your patience and your continued support - this work has just reached 100 kudos and I'm eternally grateful, seriously. I hope you enjoy this chapter, it certainly is nice having the time to work with this fic again. <br/>I love ya'll</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jesse can explain.</p><p>Jesse can explain at least some of the things going on. He knows how he got up this morning and stumbled into The Dandelion only to be greeted by Ana looking at him with an expression halfway between apologetic and smug that could only mean one thing.</p><p>He knows why Lúcio had to take the job with him - a <em>lindworm</em> in the park pond is much more his domain than Fareeha’s – and he knows how hard it was to convince Jack to let them take the van and exactly how ridiculous Lúcio looked standing in the waist deep water covered in waterlilies while the slippery beast zigzagged between his legs. He knows exactly how happy he was in that moment to be a werewolf and not a nix.</p><p>He does <em>not </em>know why Hanzo, Mei’s unfortunate and unfairly handsome colleague, has just splashed past him and into the water.</p><p>He stands frozen on the brink for a second. Hanzo’s reached Lúcio. Beneath the water, Jesse can faintly see the dark shadow of the <em>lindworm</em> thrashing about, suddenly picking up speed now that a creature not infested with the bitter taste of magic is on its turf.</p><p>Lúcio looks up when Hanzo puts a hand on his arm, in a terribly long moment Jesse locks eyes with Lúcio and the stunned panic he feels is mirrored perfectly in his dark eyes. Jesse’s mind is in overdrive. There’s no way to save this one, there can’t be. Best case scenario, he has to introduce a drenched and muddy Hanzo to the world of magic, worst case, they’ll have a <em>lindworm</em> to dissect and a gross, half digested body to dispose of.</p><p>His body acts on its own, taking five heavy steps forward. The pond water sloshes around his feet. The magic seeping from the <em>lindworm </em>into the water scorch over his skin and his fingers tingle with it. Lúcio is halfway to holding a hand up to stop him, and then everything gets worse.</p><p>There’s a splash and the waves disperse in the pond as Hanzo is pulled under. He goes with a low, surprised grunt and his hand flies off Lúcio’s arm. The <em>lindworm</em> thrashes, half victoriously and half in desperate fight to keep hold of its prey. A section of its slimy, light grey body rises out of the water, the fin along its back unfolding into a veiny sail of spike and membrane.</p><p>Lúcio shouts unintelligibly, but his arm is stretched towards Jesse with the hand held up and there’s a determined fire burning in his eyes. The gesture is clear; stand back. Jesse stops his trek towards him and Lúcio dives under the muddy water, agile and nimble in his element.</p><p>Jesse’s breathing is quick and panicked. He’s scanning the surface of the water frantically. The murky mud-brown ­­­­basin is a flurry of motion. The <em>lindworm</em> breaks the surface in frantic bursts of movement, uncoiling to its full length. It struggles and rolls in a perverse parody of a crocodile’s death roll, glistening and rippling with muscle. It must be 10, 15 meters at least. Lúcio stands up suddenly, chest heaving and eyes glowing a deep reed green, the scales suddenly cascading down his back shine like wet moss in sunshine, raised like the fur on a cat’s back.</p><p>“Shit,” he swears, teeth gritted before diving again.</p><p>Jesse can only watch. Lúcio breaks the surface again, only just poking his head up to breathe before disappearing again. There’s a horrible ticking in Jesse’s skull, the seconds gliding by with terrible, cloying haste.</p><p>How long can you go without oxygen? How long has passed?</p><p>His hands are shaking and his mind is going way too fast to form a rational plan. He wants to struggle forward, go full wolf form if necessary and wrestle the wretched, slimy thing away from an innocent bystander.</p><p>The <em>lindworm </em>bursts through the surface. Its neck slumps under the sudden strain of not being supported by the water. The frills by its face unfold when it hisses at Lúcio, emerging before it.</p><p>And Jesse is moving.</p><p>It isn’t a huge beast, long and lean and strong, but not terribly thick or menacing with just its slimy, grey head poking out of the water. And yet there’s so much malice burning in its eyes when it looks at Lúcio he has to move. The need to help overriding any logical self-preservation.</p><p>The mud is soft and heavy, he sinks an extra foot into the lakebed with every step and the magic sings, high and shrill and angry, through his veins as he approaches. He does not mind.</p><p>Lúcio is hissing out a spell, lily pads and water weed clenched in one hand. The <em>lindworm </em>thrashes, jaw opening wide, and yet it doesn’t strike, it’s sensing the hostility and power radiating off Lúcio and yet Jesse can see the terrible, primitive cunning shining in it’s tiny, cold fish-eyes. He speeds up, heart pounding and banishing all rational thoughts. He has to get to it before it does whatever it’s planning.</p><p>Lúcio growls right back at it and keeps muttering the spell, the water sloshes and glimmers around him, light reflecting of Lúcio’s scales like a thousand bottle-green prisms.</p><p>Then Jesse hits it. He knows it hurts. The burn of the magic, the cut of its scales, the weight of colliding ungracefully with its body. He knows it must hurt like getting hit by an angry train, but the adrenaline is stealing the ache away. He does feel when it pushes back against him and he goes down.</p><p>The world spins and there’s water flooding into his mouth, his ears, his nose. The light is splintered on the surface, dim through the murk and the <em>lindworm</em> is moving again, coiling furiously around its own head. It feels like the pond is boiling around him.</p><p>He’s lost his grip around its neck. His palm flail uselessly against its slimy skin and he can distantly make out where its head is. The glint of bared teeth through mud is the only warning he gets before it strikes with terrifying power. He just manages to dodge the bite, spinning blindly through the water. His knee skims the bottom of the pond, drags through the debris and his foot entangles in weeds.</p><p>Its head slams into his shoulder like a hammer against an anvil. Again, there’s the distant, dimmed knowledge of how much it <em>must</em> hurt. His breath disperses like bubbles into the water and the <em>lindworm</em> flails in his grip. His ears ring with the water rushing past and yet he catches the distant, hollow yell of something above the water.</p><p>His eyebrows knit together and he gets a second of confusion before Lúcio bursts through the water. He moves with far more agility than any normal human being would, hair fanning out behind his head and dark eyes glowing dimly.</p><p>The <em>lindworm </em>whips around, clearly sensing the more dangerous target. Its body wooshes by Jesse. Its grey side hits him, sends him whirling through the water. He tastes mud and the water gets darker still when the bottom is disturbed and whirled up. He hears Lúcio yell something to his … right? He knows the water is barely chest deep and yet with the incessant moving of the <em>lindworm </em>it’s hard to even tell up from down.</p><p>His voice carries through the dark, voice better suited to speaking underwater. It finally gets Jesse moving. His hand finds its way into his pocket and the herbs seem foreign in the dark, drenched and softened. It’s only the round, flat leaves of nasturtium he’d recognize anywhere.</p><p>The words are thick and slurred in his mouth, water spilling in, the taste and feel of mud heavy and cloying on his tongue. Lúcio is chanting something that gets drowned out by the <em>lindworm</em> screeching deafening, its body growing rigid in fury. There’s a pulse of blinding green, the errant, uprooted weeds illuminated suddenly as they drift in the swirling water.</p><p>It floods over Jesse just as his own spell is finished, the nasturtium curling up in his hand as if scorched by fire. The implications of two spells let loose in the same pool of already whirling, magic-induced water makes the hair on his neck stand on end.</p><p>The water turns white.</p><p>It’s blinding. Jesse curls in on himself and yet the magic erupting from his hand sizzles like a physical shockwave against his chest. He spins. His head momentarily break the surface before he’s plunged again.</p><p>And then he stops. His hands flail before finally getting a grip on the slippery, muddy bank. He’s on his belly, absolutely drenched and he suddenly feels the dizzying effect of not having taken a breath in way, way too long. He rolls over without an ounce of graze, sits up and feels his legs sink into the mud, but his head is finally, finally above water (still water, calm water) and his chest is heaving.</p><p>There’s no trace of the <em>lindworm</em>.</p><p>“Jesse! Help!”</p><p>His head whips around. It’s Lúcio, his scales have mostly disappeared and there’s only the faint glow around his eyes left. He’s standing in the waist deep water. Hanzo hangs onto his shoulder, awake but drowsy looking and clearly leaning with more weight against Lúcio than the latter would prefer.</p><p>Jesse instantly overcomes all lingering tiredness to run clumsily towards them. He regards it as a feat when the lingering dread, the panic of having to explain is drowned out completely by ‘<em>thank god he isn’t dead’</em></p><p>----</p><p>The ground is slick and muddy when Hanzo stumbles onto the bank. He’s drenched, his hair and clothes stick to his skin and he’s pretty sure there’ll be a wet imprint after his body when he gets back up.</p><p>Back up? His body has dropped onto the grass on its own accord, suddenly allowed to regain his breath. He’s down, laying on his back in the neatly cut grass of a public park after having what felt like nearly drowned in a maybe 5 feet deep pond.</p><p>The sky is blue, very, very blue after the intense murky dark of the water. How long was he under? Two minutes maybe. It still burns in his ribcage like he’s been kicked by something.</p><p>
  <em>Is this how the fish feel?</em>
</p><p>The thought is so absurd he almost chuckles laying there heaving on the grass. He guesses not. They’re probably better designed for it and not getting grabbed by … something. <em>An errant root</em>, his mind rushes to try and explain.</p><p><em>No</em>, a smaller but no less incessant part answers. The memory of something moving in the water burns bright, something big and strong with a tendril wrapped around his leg just below the knee, dragging him down.</p><p>He shakes his head. His breathing still isn’t back to normal and his limbs feel heavy and sluggish, it probably isn’t the best time to start theorizing about sea creatures. He sits up with clumsy movements. The move makes his vision swim slightly and he closes his eyes to stave it off until the grass feels entirely firm beneath him again.</p><p>He only becomes aware of the voices when they stop.</p><p>He didn’t notice them speaking, two voices hushed and tinged with the smallest amount of frantic energy. But when he suddenly sits up, they both shut up instantly in surprise and the change is jarring enough for him to suddenly be aware of their voices.</p><p>He opens his eyes to look at them. And his day gets impossibly worse. There’s no denying he’s seen these two men before now, not in the clear light without the sudden adrenaline pumping through his system. Even if they’re both caked in mud and have a certain likeness to wet dogs, it’s them.</p><p>He must wince like he’s in actual pain. At least the tallest of them (<em>coffeeshop cowboy</em> Hanzo would be calling him if he hadn’t apparently lost the cowboy hat under the impromptu swim) stumble to his feet and starts approaching with his arms stretched out in a nonthreatening gesture.</p><p>Hanzo wants to growl something about not being a wild animal, but the guy has reeds sticking out of his hair and Hanzo reckons he’s probably had an uncomfortable enough day as is.</p><p>“Are you okay?” he drawls, noticeably uncomfortable with the situation. His right hand is scratching at the left elbow and his gaze keeps flickering back to his companion (who’s also not living fully up to his nickname, the water’s almost gotten rid of his signature high ponytail).</p><p>Hanzo sits up properly, not willing to test the sturdiness of his legs quite yet but desperate to at least lessen the difference in height between them. He coughs politely.</p><p>“I think so yes.”</p><p>“Ok, good,” he nods shakily. His head is slightly to the side and he’s studying Hanzo with intense, nervous focus.</p><p>“I’ve seen you before,” it comes out almost like an accusation and Hanzo’s not entirely sure he meant it that way. The man winces slightly.</p><p>“Yeah, you seem familiar,” he scratches at his neck with an uneven, slightly wobbly smile. His canines are sharp, one of them poking out in a way that makes him look younger when he smiles. Hanzo blows air through his nose.</p><p>Again, he’s not sure what he’s trying to convey exactly. Some sort of stunned disdain probably. He feels like it’d suit him to be righteously angry in this situation.</p><p>“What were you doing?” his voice is flat. The man winces again, but only slightly. There’s a pull by his shoulder like he’s catching himself in the midst of a shrug.</p><p>“It’s dumb!” the other man suddenly pipes in. He too has risen to his feet, approaching Hanzo while wringing water out of his hair. There’s a slight manic tinge to the way he smiles at Hanzo and squads down beside him.</p><p>“Lúcio,” he stretches out a hand. Hanzo takes it, more or less on autopilot.</p><p>“Hanzo.”</p><p>Lúcio nods, mutters the name to himself.</p><p>“And you were doing?” Hanzo angles to get up, back straight and proud. His breathing has evened out enough for him to start viewing these strangers with his usual suspicion.</p><p>The two share a look, quick and attentive. Lúcio’s mouth is hanging slightly open and cowboy’s raising his eyebrows just the tiniest amount.</p><p>“Funny story actually,” he chuckles, moves a little on his feet, moves closer until his and Lúcio’s elbows bump together. Lúcio nods, elbows him right back, clears his throat pointedly. Cowboy looks down on him with a mildly startled expression, then there’s a flash of sheepish forgetfulness over his face.</p><p>“Oh, yes, yeah,” he rubs his palms on his jeans, “the name’s Jesse.”</p><p>He gives a little wave, Lúcio groans and his shoulders slump in defeat. Hanzo’s almost holding back a snort at their interaction when Jesse looks to Lúcio with confused disagreement and Lúcio shakes his head at him.</p><p>“I’m interested in biology,” Lúcio finally says, breathing in a deep breath and turning to Hanzo.</p><p>“Okay,” the doubt is so clear in Hanzo’s voice it almost sounds like scorn. There’s a pull by Lúcio’s eye.</p><p>“Yeah, he was checking the water,” Jesse pipes in, laying a hand on Lúcio’s shoulder.</p><p>“Checking.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“The water.”</p><p>There’s the first sign of a crack in the explanation. Jesse scratches at the back of his neck before answering again, though a tad more wavering, “yes.”</p><p>“I’m observing the growth of aquatic plants in this sort of semi-cultivated area,” Lúcio looks and talks with far more conviction, “it’s a hobby of mine, Jesse was just helping out while I was looking at the,” his eyes flicker the smallest amount, “very peculiar currents in this particular pond. The mud formations in there are really something and they do weird things to the way the water flows.”</p><p>Jesse’s nodding sagely along through the explanation, a look of barely concealed awed surprise spreading over his face as it goes on.</p><p>“Okay,” it comes out slow and drawn out even if Hanzo didn’t really want it that way. It honestly sounds like bogus and he’s not sure ‘peculiar currents’ is a good enough explanation for what he experienced, but some terrified part of his mind is yelling that these people knows Mei and he should really remove himself from the situation before it turns even more embarrassing.</p><p>He can’t shake the lingering sense of shame from his unfortunate run-in with Mei, it bubbles up uncomfortably and in the bubbles there are traces of the larger, inexplicable shame that has squished around in his chest and in the back of his throat for as long as he can remember.</p><p>“But thanks for the help,” Lúcio’s smiling at him, uneven and dimpled, “I really stirred that water up good.”</p><p>“I was supposed to watch him but, apparently, I’ve lost the touch,” Jesse grins, suddenly back to composed and full of bravado, leaned back with his hands in his pocket and one sharp canine ruggedly on display. Hanzo’s pretty sure it’s meant to be a charming look, and it probably is too when he isn’t full of mud.</p><p>As if suddenly realizing the condition they’re all in, Jesse’s smile falters. He runs a hand through his hair, fingers catching on a piece of a reed and awkwardly chugging it to the side with a smile.</p><p>“Actually, are you okay?” the toe of his boot beat restlessly at the ground, “is there anything we can do for you?”</p><p>Hanzo spends the next five minutes of his life handwaving away offers to replace his clothing or at least get it cleaned, then another five watching two grown men frantically search around a pond for a phone he thought he lost until he rechecks the left pocket of his jacket and finds it there. Jesse thinks it’s funny, Lúcio looks about relieved enough to ascend to some sort of heaven.</p><p>“Okay, we should get going,” Lúcio claps his hands.</p><p>“Wait,” Jesse’s looking at Hanzo, “how are you gonna get home?”</p><p>Hanzo’s eyebrows rise involuntarily.</p><p>“I got here on the bus,” he straightens his jacket, resists the urge to scrape cakes of mud off the sleeve. There’s a burning sensation near the back of his skull.</p><p>“Please, I insist can we please drive you home or at least to a station?”</p><p>Hanzo’s face betrays him, his nose crinkling up in indecision for just a second before he gets it back under control. On one hand, they’re right, he does super not want to be in a bus right now and in this state. On the other, every instinct is screaming at him to leave and stop being near these people.</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” his neck strain from holding his head high and proud. Jesse looks at him with barely concealed disbelief.</p><p>“It’s really no problem,” Lúcio adds, looking just a tad shameful he didn’t make the offer first.</p><p>Hanzo’s hands tighten by his sides, “it’s fine, it’s not too long to the bus stop.”</p><p>The two share a look, quick and meaningful. None of them press him on it though something awkward and tender lingers in the air.</p><p>“Okay then,” Jesse stuffs a hand into the pocket of his jacket, straightens up a tad, “we should get going. Thank you so much for your help.”</p><p>“Yes, no problem,” Hanzo murmurs and starts walking.</p><p>They’re going in the same direction.</p><p>He wants to kick himself. Of course they are, that’s the one central exit and his plan of a quick, painless disengage from these two is ruined. He’ll have to walk the shameful two hundred meters in weird, lingering silence – or maybe with them uncomfortably two meters behind him keeping not enough distance to act like they don’t know each other – and then make a second, even worse farewell at the gates to the park.</p><p>He's pulled violently from the spiral of thoughts by Jesse choking out a low laugh.</p><p>“Okay, this is dumb, can we please drive you home?” he stops on the path, Hanzo’s forced to turned around to look at him. His eyes are kind, bubbling with some sort of mirth and though the hairs on Hanzo’s neck are already rising in defense, it doesn’t feel mocking. He braces for impact, for being told he’s messing it up and breaking from social norms, but Jesse’s body language is relaxed and amused, hands rising to make a soft, undefined motion.</p><p>“I promise,” he continues, gaze dropping and head falling out to the side so a lock of his still wet hair fall over his eyes, “no conversation, we just drive in silence unless you say something and then you get off when we’re close to where you live?”</p><p>It’s a reasonable idea.</p><p>“I promise it won’t be weird … weird<em>er</em>,” he grins, sharp canines showing on the last word.</p><p>Hanzo feels his shoulders droop, “okay.”</p><p>----</p><p>They mostly keep their word. Lúcio crawls into the back seat before Hanzo can protest, sits down and fishes’ bulky headphones out from somewhere. It leaves Hanzo to the passenger seat, giving Jesse directions on how to get home, while Lúcio leans against the window and looks to fall asleep. They drive in silence for a solid five minutes before Jesse cracks.</p><p>“You know Mei, right?” he glances over, relaxed and yet still alert. Hanzo gets the distinct feeling he’s being studied for a response.</p><p>“Yes,” he answers, corrects his posture in the seat. Jesse hums thoughtfully, one hand releasing the steering wheel to scratch absentmindedly at his elbow. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. Jesse’s posture still seems relaxed and loose. “we work together.” He adds on.</p><p>Jesse looks back up at him with a low <em>huh</em>, he nods, “oh yeah, she mentioned you.” He smiles and there’s something conspiratorial in that smile, how his eyes shine. His freckles suddenly stand out when they turn and a ray of sunshine cuts across his face.</p><p>Hanzo has to look away. He’s pretty sure he knows what Mei’s told of him. His hands tighten in his lap. The air in the van doesn’t change, nothing about Jesse’s body language communicates hostility or that he thinks badly of Hanzo. Yet it suddenly feels cloying.</p><p>“How do you know her?” change the subject, before he says anything of his and Mei’s interactions.</p><p>“Well, I” there’s a weird pause, Hanzo’s pretty sure Jesse’s trying to get in contact with Lúcio in the rearview mirror, “actually Lú, how did we meet Mei?” he smiles at Hanzo, eyebrows wrinkled slightly.</p><p>Hanzo borrows his trick and check through the mirror on how Lúcio’s doing.</p><p>“Don’t think he’ll be much help,” Hanzo’s voice is flat and straight to the point.</p><p>Jesse’s eyebrows fly up when he looks at him, sly smile spreading over his face and surprised mirth dancing in his eyes. Hanzo looks right back, face betraying nothing except for where the corner of his mouth point subtly upwards.</p><p>Jesse drops his eyes back, head shaking slightly. Hanzo snorts subtly, but the pressure in his throat is definitely gone.</p><p>“You still haven’t answered.”</p><p>Jesse looks up, unsure, then, “ah, no, yeah. Mei, I think she was just a customer Lúcio started chatting with?” there’s a pull by his mouth. He looks to Hanzo like he might be able to confirm the story. Hanzo shrugs slightly and Jesse must realize he phrased it like a question, at least he lowers his eyes with a low laugh and a slight shake of the head.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she just was at the shop one day,” he nods, “known her for a long time you know, it gets fuzzy.”</p><p>Hanzo hums in sympathy and the silence is soft and calm. He makes the last directions before the van slows to a halt a couple hundred meters from his apartment.</p><p>“Thanks for the lift,” he nods, speaking mostly on autopilot. Jesse raises a hand, waves it off with a string of indistinct muttering. Hanzo nods again and opens the door.</p><p>He means to turn and wave but sees how Jesse’s climbed out the car too. There’s a nervous edge to the way he moves, and he seems to subtly try and check if Lúcio’s noticed anything.</p><p>Hanzo’s shoulders tense instinctually and Jesse must sense it, he shrugs, a hand rising nonthreateningly.</p><p>“I just wanted to say, I’m sorry for last time,” he scratches at his neck, apparently his go to move when feeling uncomfortable., “couldn’t find a good way to bring it up but that was …”</p><p>“Clumsy?”</p><p>“I was going to say rude and gross but that works too I guess,” his head drops slightly to the side when he smiles, eyes almost crinkling shut. Hanzo breathes out, breath rushing through his nose in a soft snort.</p><p>Jesse’s tongue darts out to lick his lip, he smiles, teeth dragging against his bottom lip, “you know, there is a story there,” he rolls back on his heels eyes glinting, “though I have to warn you, you probably wouldn’t believe me.”</p><p>He has the audacity to actually wink. Hanzo has to wince overdramatically just to save face, Jesse barks a short laugh but there’s no bite there. So much for being sorry, though this charm feels a lot more natural than the first run in.</p><p>“I’m sure you had your reasons.”</p><p>Jesse shrugs, the line of his shoulders turning softer.</p><p>“And,” he nods slowly to himself, “thanks for helping out, that was real nice of you,” his eyes are soft even as his hands remain flighty and uncertain, fingers scratching at his belt.</p><p>Hanzo halfway wants to explain it really wasn’t for their sake, but that feels like it’d either end up rude or like the start of unloading more baggage than he’s fully ready to.</p><p>“And if you change your mind, or find out anything is broken, please get in contact,” Jesse cuts off his thoughts, seemingly content with no answer. He’s looking at his hands now, only meeting Hanzo’s eyes to confirm he’s heard.</p><p>Hanzo nods softly.</p><p>They stand frozen looking at one another for a second, then Jesse kicks into gear with a low embarrassed murmur. He laughs apologetically, then fish a business card of some sort out of his pocket. He winces down at it, but scratch down a phone number either way.</p><p>Hanzo takes it automatically, it’s a little murky and wrinkled from the water, but the number stands out in crisp, slightly scratchy handwriting.</p><p>“I’ll … do that.”</p><p>He’s honestly pretty sure he won’t, but Jesse perks up either way.</p><p>“Good, you’re welcome any day, like if you want to come by I’m sure we’d all love to have you. Could even bring Mei with you, it’s been ages since she visited”, he smiles, shrugs like he’s self-conscious about the long string of invitations, then angles to turn around, reaching up as if to tap the brim of a hat he’s no longer wearing. The smooth movement only falters for a second before he transitions it into a lax salute, “anyway, see you around.”</p><p>Hanzo nods as an answer, but Jesse probably misses it, already having turned around.</p><p>The van closes it’s doors and drive away. Hanzo waves absentmindedly, then drops his gaze to the business card. The motif hasn’t been totally destroyed by the pond, <em>The Dandelion</em> stands in elegant, straight letters. Below is the simple, flighty drawing of an elegant flower with five petals and leaves like shamrocks. A sorrel.</p><p>----</p><p>“Let me get it straight, you invited him here?” Jack’s waving a ladle around like some sort of improvised weapon.</p><p>“No, I gave the offer and he’s not going to take me up on it,” Jesse’s seated on the part of the counter not taken up by Jack’s cooking endeavor, “it’s called being polite.”</p><p>Lúcio snorts and Jesse sends him a look.</p><p>They’ve concluded the part of the evening where they report how the job went to Ana. Today, that duty expanded into listening to everyone trying to one-up each other at firing witty remarks while Jesse explains the lovely conversation he had with the man he said was pretty one time then continued to embarrass himself in front of as many times as humanely possible.</p><p>“Why?” Jack turns around fully, accidentally bumping his elbow into an innocent bowl on the counter.</p><p>“Well, Jesse thinks he’s hot,” Lúcio states matter-of-factly from the dining table. Jesse sputters.</p><p>“As I was saying, politene-“</p><p>“What kind of reasoning is that?” Jack cuts him off, sending him a crooked, boyish smile before turning to Lúcio. Jesse rolls his eyes.</p><p>Lúcio shrugs nonchalantly, “I don’t know, you brought an angel into this house for that reason.” Jesse barks a laugh as Jack sputters.</p><p>“Hey, that’s not the same,” Jack composes himself, reaching down to pet Reap who’s raised her head from her post curled at his feet at the commotion, “that was before you were even born.”</p><p>Lúcio looks up, head slightly askew before he continues, shaking his head lightly, “god you are old.”</p><p>Jack sighs, defeated and Jesse uses his moment of distraction to toss Reap a treat. There’s no way Jack saw it, and yet he fixes Jesse with a look. He sighs again, goes back to stirring whatever it is he’s making.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter, it’s still not a good idea to have the uninitiated swing by up here.”</p><p>“Well, Vincent still comes by from time to time?” Jesse adds in, grinning smugly.</p><p>“Yes, and we have to scour the house for magic every time and he’s still always on the brink of finding something,” Jack counters, turning to wave the ladle at Jesse. He holds his hands up in surrender, but still grins sharply back at Jack.</p><p>“He’s not coming over, Jack,” Jesse’s voice drops to something softer, more serious. Jack regards him for a long moment, “I think we scared him away for good.”</p><p>There’s something terribly soft in Jack’s blue eyes. Jesse waves him off, grins crooked and deflecting. Hanzo’s sweet and pretty and apparently weirdly helpful and heroic and funny in a very understated way, but he’ll certainly live even if Hanzo never calls.</p><p>“Though I will say,” his grin grows sharp, “it is a little unfair you get two boyfriends over the years and the rest of us get nothing.”</p><p>Lúcio splutters. Jack regards them both, eyes twinkling behind the glasses. Then he points the ladle at them, each after the other and Jesse’s already bracing for a speech about how they’re both lovely men, and romantic relationships aren’t everything after all.</p><p>Instead he points the ladle directly at Jesse and almost manages to keep a straight face through the sentence:</p><p>“And you know, I’m still holding back.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading once again!! I feel like I'm starting to sound like a broken record but really, it does mean the world and I often go back and reread the nice comments when I'm feeling down!<br/>This chapter is very Jesse/Hanzo focused and 1) I hope you enjoy this McHanzo fic finally having McHanzo content 2) Hanzo's one of the hardest characters for me to write which might also have contributed to the time it took to get out. I adore him, he's one of my all time favorite characters and I really want to do him justice but by god does he just not flow as easily as the others ... rant for this chapter over, thank you for your patience</p><p>As always, comments are the way to my heart &lt;3</p>
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